


The taste of freedom

by ChairmanChurch



Series: The taste of freedom (Newtmas's Wingfic) [1]
Category: The Maze Runner (Movies), The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - High School, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Coming Out, Complete, First Time, Homophobia, Hurt/Comfort, I know it sounds crazy, M/M, Minho Ships It, Minho/Thomas friendship, Newt and Gally are brothers, Newt/Minho friendship, Teresa Ships It, Thomas/Teresa friendship, Wingfic, Wings are sensitive, but still
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-09
Updated: 2016-09-18
Packaged: 2018-07-14 00:36:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 63,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7144988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChairmanChurch/pseuds/ChairmanChurch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Finding your true self is hard.</p><p>Making others accept it is even harder.</p><p>But the hardest thing is to <em>love someone without breaking them</em>.</p><p>A Wingfic in which Newt had never thought that a boy with a pair of black wings would ever turn his world upside down completely.</p><p>(I do realize this summary is vague.<br/>But oh well, sod it.)</p><p>~completed~</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> To be honest, I'm obsessed with wingfics more than accepted. But just imagine TMR's characters were born to possess their own perfect wings behind their backs. Awesome, huh? So I wrote this fic, partly to indulge myself, and the bigger part was devoting a Thomas/Newt fic to anyone who likes winged chacracters like me. Or just simply likes TMR's characters.
> 
> Note: Gally in this fic was portayed as Gally in movie version which was tall and built and blonde, but his big nose would be kept like in TMR books.
> 
> Ps: I own nothing but the plot and writing mistakes 0:)
> 
> ~~
> 
> Enjoy!!!

_There was a world where human beings were gifted with wings, but being divided into two races. Lightors and Darkors. Legend had it that Lightors were descendants of Angels and Human, and Darkors were children of Demons and Human. It was believed that White-winged and Black-winged creatures would never be mixed._

_But what if?_

~~~~~~~~~

"Can't bloody believe our school is going to let those filthy Darkors enroll in," Gally cursed as they were on their way home. The area was a beautiful and full of sunshine neighborhood. The neighbors living in it weren't that nice though. The typical example was Gally, who unreasonably hated Darkors so much.

"Can't tell anything about that. Darkors have their strength and stamina. Maybe we could recruit some into our flying athletic team," replied Minho flatly. Minho himself had some friends who were Darkors and his dislike for Gally was clear on his face. His silver white wings were folded neatly and calmly behind his back. They screamed powerfulness and full of energy.

"Hell no. Lightors and Darkers will never be collided. We're in a higher rank." On the opposite, Gally's stout white wings were flickering furiously at his hostility towards Darkors who were going to join their school next semester.

Minho stayed silence at that, knowing that debating with Gally about this was pointless, the blonde boy would never change his mind about that Darkors were all the sins existing in this world. But of course Minho would throw some payback at him sooner or later, because he was always the one who had the last word.

"The ones who think they're in a higher rank always have their face look up, yes," said Minho.

"I'll never look up to those Darkors," Gally snapped, his face reddening.

"I even didn't mean it that way," Minho smirked as he exchanged a look with Newt, clearly he did mean it that way.

At that, he took off flying towards his own house which was three blocks away from Newt's. Gally gave him a glance, maybe for not defending his own brother and instead silently approving Minho.

Newt shrugged, his wings lifting up a little with the movement of his shoulders then lowering negligently again, the tips of them trailing across the ground as he kept walking.

And Gally spread his wings and flew northwards, clearly going to meet the members of his athletic team whom he could talk behind others' backs with.

Newt didn't even bother hopping up and flapping his wings. He was exhausted and drained of energy for the whole afternoon running totally eleven laps so he could participate in another sport for his Physical Education. Newt's legs were long and he could run fast, but having to lift his wings so they couldn't impede his speed all the way running laps was not a comfortable course of action, and his wings were even wearier than his legs.

Newt had no powerful and strong wings like his peers, the only thing his wings were more special was their length, super duper long. Besides, one of his wing bones had been broken when Newt had pushed himself to the limit and flown up to the sky as high as possible, and lost balance then fallen. It had healed, but not entirely. Newt was now still loosing balance every time he tried to fly fast. His parent had been disappointed, when their first son was the captain of a flying athletic team, and Newt even barely flapped his wings effectively.

And that was the reason why people looked down on him. Gally looked down on him. Even his parents looked down on him. 

Minho did not though, he praised the abnormal length of Newt's wings occasionally, as if they were admirable. He even took some photos of them when Newt fell asleep and secretly posted them in his blog, and after that students in his school would look at Newt with two different expressions. The girls would squeal every time Newt flicker his wings. The boys would laugh at Newt every time he spread it. It was understandable, females liked things with soft and beautiful looking, males liked things with big size and great strength, that was what Minho told him. When Newt asked, "So you are like females, right?", Minho would pad his shoulders and say, "I swing for both teams."

Speaking of which, Newt was wondering which team he swung for. Newt never got fond of any girl though he had a lot of suitors. But he hadn't had any feelings towards boys, either. Or he was frigid?

But really, he would rather be frigid than being interested in boys. What would his family say and treat him? To them, being homosexual was as sinuous as being born Darkors.

"Newton." Some one called him out of his train of thoughts.

Newt turned around and saw Clint, a junior at his school, approached him with a delightful smile.

"What's so merry?" Newt asked and felt quite happy himself that at least there was someone looking so happy after a school day.

"Nothing. It's just," the gray-haired boy hesitated, ducking his head a little like he was trying to hide his smile, "I'm just so happy to hear that Darkors will attend our school next semester."

"You are?" Newt couldn't help his surprise. No one was happy with this change. And Newt really didn't care about the change, because his life would undoubtedly not change anything at all with or without Darkors.

"Yeah, um, yes." Clint scratched his head awkwardly.

"Clint, I don't want to sound rude. But why did you tell me this? My brother's not happy about this so I couldn't say I was allowed to be happy about this," Newt said in the way of saying _'I shouldn't care if you're happy or not.'_

"The thing is," Clint hesitated again, then said with tiny voice that Newt had to lean in a little closer to hear him, "I have a friend who is Darkor and I know Gally doesn't like it and he will surely do something about it. No offense."

"Not taken. Go on."

"Could you just tell him to spare my friend. He's really nice and meek, and I'm sure he will not do anything to get in your brother's way. So could you—"

"Clint, it's not my desire that your friend or any of the Darkors is bullied. But you know Gally, no one can talk him down," said Newt gently, finding himself already squeezing the shorter boy's shoulder encouragingly. "But if I could give you an advice, just stay away from Gally, out of his sight, as far as possible. He'll graduate next year so don't worry too much. Focus on your study."

Clint looked up at him this time, the cheerful smile on his face had faded, but being replaced by a smaller, accepting smile. "Yeah. Thanks, Newton!"

And he flew away, being the third person leaving Newt on this street.

Newt had thought Clint was the last person he talked with on this mere street. It should have been like that.

There was a boy, quite tall-looking, but maybe still shorter than Newt about an inch or two, stood somehow helplessly on the curb. In his hands was a huge map like it was a world map or such. And he was turning it around like he was trying to find the right direction to read a map. Newt would just ignore him if it hadn't been for the fact that the boy had a pair of inky wings, flashing some shades of blue all over the tips of his feathers. They were as huge as Gally's and looked as strong as Minho’s. It seemed like with a single beat of his wings, the boy could create a considerable whirlwind and maybe sweep all the dying leaves out of this street. Newt would not admit that he had to put quite effort into putting off his gaze off those mesmerizing wings.

The boy's back was turning to Newt, so all he could see were a gray sweater, dark blue jeans, quite broad shoulders and a dark-brunette hair.

Newt pointedly walked pass him.

"Hey," the boy called after him.

Newt pointedly ignored it.

"Hey, you, yellow wings," the boy literally shouted.

_'Yellow wings?'_

Newt spun on his heels at that, frowning. He was about to say _'They're not yellow, they're white with golden patterns'_ but he barely opened his mouth.

"Do you live here?" The boy asked, his cameral eyes glimmering in the sunset light.

Newt was asking himself if he should tell a lie or just turn and walk away. His family wouldn't be happy if they knew he talked to a Darkor. But they did not know, right?

"Yeah. What's up?" Newt asked, and bloody hell, he shouldn't have asked. It was like he was trying to start a conversation.

"Definitely not the sun," the boy joked humorlessly. At Newt's frown, he snorted and said, "I'm new here. And really don't know how to get to my new homestay."

"Let me see the address," said Newt promptly, and was surprised at his own enthusiasm.

The address was coincidently the exact same with Minho's address. How come Minho's family offered homestay for students and how come his Asian best friend didn't bother telling him about this? Newt had no bloody idea.

"Follow me," said Newt as he regained his all false blank expression after the surprise, gesturing his hand in Minho's house direction.

"Wow, that's kind of you leading the way," the boy remarked.

"My house's near it," said Newt curtly and began to lead the way.

Suddenly Newt felt self-conscious at his wings trailing across the sidewalk, they must look terrible at this point, after being dragged with Newt for a whole long, tiring day without being washed and groomed. He instinctively looked around and down to check them. Yeah, they were full of dust and leaves and looked like nothing but piles of ragged feathers.

Newt looked up and saw the boy's gaze on the end of his wings, dumbfounded.

"What're you looking at?" Newt asked, feeling extremely self-conscious now.

The boy's eyes immediately flickered up at his question and he shrugged, "Nothing. It's just that your yellow wings look like shit."

"I'm aware. And they're white with golden patterns," said Newt, rolling his eyes.

"Right," the boy replied after a moment, drawling a word unconvinedly.

Once they stood at Minho's threshold, Newt casually pressed the button, at which the black-winged boy had his brows shot up.

"You're nicer than necessary. I could press it myself," said the boy.

Newt said nothing, just waiting.

After the second ring, someone's footsteps were louder and closer. The door was pulled opened and revealed Minho, who was already on one of his Marvel heroes pajamas collection. Newt didn't realized he had wandered the street this long.

"Thomas. Bro," Minho exclaimed happily. His smile made his eyes look like two thin threads.

"Homie." The boy grinned as well, putting his map on his suitcase then leaned in to give Minho a bear hug, wings flapping gleefully. Newt had to step back a little so he didn't accidentally touch the wings.

"You two know each other?" Newt asked.

Minho pulled out from the hug, one hand still lingering on one of the boy's shoulders, and said, "Yeah. We met online. He's been my partner in LOL for two years."

"That long?" Newt asked.

"Yeah. That's long." It was the Darkor boy responded this time.

Newt grabbed Minho's upper arm and yanked him towards him, then whispered to his ear, "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I don't think you cared about Darkors, especially when your family—" Minho whispered back, but being cut off by Newt.

"But I care about who you make friends with."

"So possessive." Minho pretended to cough as he pushed his words out.

"I am not." Newt snapped.

"Guys. Are you done whispering so loud the whole neighborhood could hear? Someone is in the need of a shower here," the boy chimed in, using his hands heedlessly sweeping off some leaves stuck on his wings.

"Right," Minho smiled the thin-line-eyed again, "go ahead, your room on the second floor and the bathroom at the end of the hall."

After Minho dismissed, the boy grabbed his possesses and pushed shoulder past Minho to get in. Their wings brushed a little and Newt didn't know why he suddenly felt his face heat up.

"You'll come over right? Tonight, we have plan," Minho asked once they were left alone.

"Uh—" Newt hesitated, shifting from foot to foot, "Sorry, mate. I think my family wouldn't be happy at the new Darkors joining our school, and tonight maybe not the good time for me to hang out. You know them."

Minho looked at him regardingly, then said, "Alright, another day then," then added, "Don't feel being put out to grass, you, me and Thomas, three of us will get along. I promise. He's a great guy."

Newt caught himself surprised at those words, he shook his head, "No, I don't feel anything like that. Just that new semester is coming and I'm worried, about how Lightors and Darkors would get along. Not everyone is good-natured like you."

"Not everyone, yes, but there is still you and me, and maybe we could change things together," Minho said, clapping him in the shoulder, nodding encouragingly.

Newt smiled back a little, and it felt better when he knew he was not alone, he said, "So that is Tommy, huh?"

"Yes, that is Tommy." Minho grinned.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello you guys! I'm back with Chapter 2 from Thomas' POV. This chapter's still quite like introducing some backgrounds for the main plot of this story. The next chapter will have a lot of Newtmas scenes, I promise, so wait for me, love!!!!!
> 
> ~~
> 
> Enjoy!!!

"Oh my goodness, his wings are gorgeous. The pictures on your blog didn't do them justice," exclaimed Thomas loudly as he'd finished his shower and stormed into Minho's room.

"I know you would be this fanboying mess when you saw them in real life," Minho chuckled, laying his head on his arms, looking up at his friend from the bed he was laying on. All silver-feathered wings spread lazily on the mattress.

"Look at these fantastic feathers, and the curves of his wing bones. They're just perfect," chirped Thomas, hovering his phone in front of Minho's face to show the picture of Newt's wings he had stealthily captured when the blonde'd led the way earlier.

"Wow, you even took a picture. That's creepy," Minho snorted.

Thomas withdrew his phone back and looked at it, Newt's wings were lighting up the whole screen that Thomas had to narrow his eyes a little bit. Minho seemed to get used to it though, he saw them with his eyes wide, by 'wide' here Thomas meant _'wide in Minho's standard'._

"Have you touched them before?" Thomas suddenly asked, getting struck by the thought.

Minho brows shot up, his gaze on Thomas was scrutinizing.

"Twice. Once was accident, and the second time was when Newt couldn't get rid of the butterfly landing on one of his wings since Newt's scared of insects," informed Minho and narrowed his eyes at Thomas, which made Thomas not seeing his eyeballs at all, "Why are you asking about this? You know wings contact is the private and sensitive topic to Lightors, right?"

"I know. Just out of curiosity. What did it feel like?" Thomas knew he shouldn't keep asking, but he couldn't help. Those wings looked so soft like he could run his fingers through those all white and golden-patterned feathers.

"The feathers froze when I touched them the second time."

"Wha—? Why?" Thomas asked, confused.

"Wings of Lightors will get all frozen when they're being touched unwillingly. The first time was accident so Newt hadn't let his guard up, and I accidentally shoved it by my leather-clad elbow so I couldn't feel anything at all. Do your Darkor wings not work like that?" Minho asked back curiously.

"Nah, we're no convoluted creatures, we're simply facile." Thomas said, proudly.

"Indeed. Your face says everything."

"What?"

"You're drooling when ogling at your phone screen, Thomas."

Thomas wiped his wrist over his mouth, embarrassed, "Sorry."

And Minho looked at him, said, "Wanna touch mine?" He even winked.

"No. They look like piles of sharp metal. It's like your feathers would bite my hand if I touched." Thomas denied, raising his hands in front of himself with a gesture saying _'Stay the hell away from me'._

"Up to you. And I'm wondering, Thomas, how could you coincidently bump into Newt earlier? He even barely talked to strangers, " Minho asked suspiciously.

"I didn't know how to read a map." Thomas shrugged, then made his way to the chair, huge wings shoving almost everything on the way. Minho gave him a disapproval glance so Thomas tried his best to fold them as tinily as possible.

"You didn't know how to read a map," Minho repeated his words in a monotone.

"Okay, okay. I do know how to read a map. But I caught his sight broodily walking the street so I pretended not to know how to read a map. Happy?" Thomas huffed.

"Totally. You recognized him?"

"No one could not recognize those wings." Thomas smiled dreamily as he remember their length, their shape and the cloudy-looking feathers.

Minho shook his head slightly, chuckling, and changed the topic. "Speaking of amazing wings, how is Chuck getting on? The last time I saw him when we were on Skype, he made a huge fuss over the shortness of his wings."

Thomas laughed at that, joyfully. "They're getting longer, lucky for him. But currently Chuck's yammering about why his wings have no shade of blue like mine, just pure black."

"Your family genes are strong, Chuck will inherit the blue shades when he hits puberty."

Thomas could feel his face turning into the terrified expression at that. "Don't talk about it. Foreseeing Chuck growing up and becoming rebellious when hitting puberty is like boding ill. It's really not an intriguing hobby I wanna pick up."

"He's a great kid," Minho said, waving off Thomas' unnecessary anxiety.

"He's my brother. And I was a great kid, too," said Thomas, "I even don't wanna remember what I was like when puberty hit me straight on the face."

"What did you do then?" asked Minho.

"I kissed my neighbor on the mouth at his wedding even before his new wife could in front of everybody just to prove my parents that any man could turn gay when being kissed by a handsome boy like me." Thomas' long sentence came out with only one breath. When he finished, Minho had already cackled at his face.

"So did he turn gay?" Minho finally regained his ability to talk after laughing like a maniac.

"He was goddamnit straight. And I'm the one who's gay now." Thomas said and snorted out a laughter himself at the memory.

"What were your parents' reactions?" asked Minho inquiringly.

"They said I was a horrible kisser. Chuck was eleven back then and even barely knew what kiss was, but he laughed at my face too. He still calls me Greenie until now. Chuck will be jacked like me one day."

"Not every little brother will be like his big brother, Thomas. Newt is a typical example." Minho remarked.

"Interesting. Tell me about him."

"Remember the stuck up captain of my flying athletic team I told you before?" Minho asked.

"You gotta be kidding me." Thomas bursted into laughter at how funny Minho was, even clutching his stomach for good measure.

"I wish I were." Minho gave him a long and serious look, sighing wearily.

"The one who is Dakor-phobic, and homophobic as well, and he is Newt's big brother?" Thomas stopped laughing and exclaimed in disbelief.

Minho nodded with sympathy.

"Ironic," Thomas smirked, feeling bitter taste in his mouth. "I'm a Darkor who accidentally has some hot for his brother. How great my life is!"

"Just to make your life more tragic, all of his family members are the same." Minho had an expression of aversion when he talked about Newt's family. But his face softened a little when he added, "Except Newt."

Thomas was fondly aware of how the corners of his mouth lifted up at the mention of the blonde boy, "Newt should be enough."

Minho stood up from his bed and moved towards Thomas. He clapped his hand on his shoulder when he reached him. "You still join our team, right?"

"Yeah, why not? It sounds fun, maybe I could get a sport scholarship," Thomas smiled up at him. He knew at least there would be Minho with him in the team so everything would be reassured to be alright.

"You have a strategy mind when you play games. I have no doubt you do the same with study," Minho commented supportively.

"Not really. I was only on top 5 at my former school," Thomas said and earned a smack from Minho.

"Shut up. I'm on top 5 from the bottom," Minho rolled his adorable tiny eyes. "Anyways, you have to tolerate Gally and his companies when you join the team."

"I know how to deal with dicks. No worries," Thomas said.

~~~~~~~~~

Thomas had worries now. After spending a solid week listening to Minho talking about his new school, about how both students and teachers would react and treat Darkors, about how of an asshole Gally and his companies were, Thomas had thought that was all he had to handle. How wrong he was.

And one of his biggest worries right now was that a golden boy who was sitting in front of him in his bio class. Thomas hardly focused on anything.

"Psk, Thomas." His best friend, Teresa called him from the beside table.

"Huh?" Thomas replied, even not bothering giving her a glance.

"Stop staring at his wings. Ms. Chancellor is looking at you," Teresa whispered. When Thomas turned his face to look at her, Teresa's blue eyes were full of alarming.

It was lucky that the space between tables in each row was large enough so students' wings could habitat, or Newt would have heard all the thing Teresa was talking about. And that would be embarrassing for Thomas.

Thomas looked up then, and it was true that his bio teacher was glaring at him. Thomas hastily grabbed his pencil and pretended to note down something on his notebook.

Finally, Ms. What her name again?, spared him and continued with her lecture. Thomas resumed to his ogling.

At the end of the class, she informed about their new project and asked them to partner up.

"Thomas," Teresa grabbed his elbow, smiling delightful, "We're gonna be a pair."

Thomas grinned at her as well, Teresa was very good at biology, and she was the only Darkor in this class. Thomas didn't like the idea of being partnered up with one of those arrogant Lightors.

"This semester students with same sex will be partnered up. It'll be about wing anatomy so it has to be pair of same sex. And when the deadline comes, each pair is allowed to show your achievement that could help and develop your wings' abilities to get an extra mark, up to you." His bio teacher said.

"Shuck." Both Teresa and Thomas cursed under their breath in union.

Thomas watched as Teresa was offered to be partnered with one of the Lightor girls whose name was Brenda. She looked as pretty as Teresa and she seemed nice and cool enough that Teresa forgot about Thomas immediately and joined her new partner.

Minho popped up out of nowhere.

"Hey, I'm with Ably," Minho clapped his hand on the golden boy's shoulder, and Newt jumped a little at the touch then looked up at Minho. "Guess who are left here?" asked Minho, grinning wickedly.

Following Minho's gaze, Newt turned his head and his shoulders a little, and looked at Thomas. But he said nothing.

"Wow, I guess we should be partners then," said Thomas awkwardly but squealed innerly.

"Yeah, uh, sure," Newt said, then he packed up his supplies and stood up. And he strode out of the classroom, all long and golden-white wings tagged behind him.

Thomas stood up as well, padding on Minho's shoulder before ran out of the room after Newt.

"Hey, Newt," Thomas called as he caught Newt's sight near the locker area, "Don't you wanna discuss our project this semester?"

Newt kept walking to his locker, and when he reached it, he looked at Thomas. "We can talk about tha—" Newt said, but cut himself off as his gaze moved over Thomas' shoulder.

Thomas turned his head around to see what made Newt halt mid-sentence and he found himself being glared by a blonde boy with brawny physique. And he had a nose that could suck dry Atlantic by one breathing in. Thomas turned his gaze back to Newt, who said nothing more, just ducking his head as he put his books into his satchel.

"Is that Gally?" Thomas asked.

"Yes," said Newt and raised his head up a little to glance at Thomas, his blonde eyelashes curving beautifully. "And he's my brother."

"I thought Minho had joked when he said it." Thomas said flatly.

"Said what?" Newt gave him a confused look.

"That Gally was your brother. He doesn't look like you, except the blonde." Thomas shrugged.

"And he doesn't like Darkors like me, either."

"You like Darkors?" Thomas asked and couldn't help his mouth twisted up into a smile.

"I don't hate them." Newt said indifferently then flung his bag over one shoulder. "Is it okay that I'm coming over your and Minho's house tonight? To discuss our bio project?"

Thomas grinned, screaming _SHUCKING YES_ in his mind, and said, "Hm, let me check my schedule." Thomas was playing hard to get, and suddenly wondered if Newt wanted to get or not at all. He even had no clue whether Newt was into boys or not.

"Fine, if you don't wan—" Newt said with his flat tone, and clearly he didn't want to get, much to Thomas' disappointment.

"No. No no no. Of course it's okay. Seven?"

"Yeah."

With that, Newt dashed to his next class, and Thomas realized that he was late for his class as well. So he decided to fly, but once he spread his wings in full length, they touched the lockers and the wall and yeah, he couldn't fly inside the building. Shuck. And Thomas ran.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Are you guys eager to see what would happen on Newtmas' bio project meeting?? Tbh, I really am...and I couldn't forget our little baby Chuck, so he'd be on this story as well, and he was Thomas' younger brother. How amazing it is!!!  
> Anyways, thank you all for your kudos and comments, I'm so glad you guys like this! <3


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The thing is that I had a fashion crisis for characters in this story. At first I didn't notice but when it popped in my head, I was just like "Oh f*ck". But let's just pretend that our characters still wear normal clothes but with some special designs on the back for their wings, okay? Like a zipper or buttons or anything haha. So here we go, Newtmas' bio meeting.
> 
> ~~~
> 
> Enjoy!!!

Newt had a practice today and he was being late. It was 6 pm and Newt had only one hour left to get home, take a shower, and have dinner before the project meeting with Thomas. So he ran.

It was 6:07 when he was standing in front of his house gate, panting heavily. He had ran over half a mile in seven minutes, breaking his own record. Newt tried not to think about the motivation that pushed him to run fast like this. He having a great sense of punctuality was the reason. He not wanting Thomas to have to wait was not the reason. He being eager to meet Thomas was so damn not the reason.

Newt opened the door and was confronted by a grouchy face of his brother.

"Who were you talking to this morning?" Gally asked, arms crossing on his chest. 

There was no point talking reasonably to Gally and Newt was literally running out of time, so he dodged over Gally's side but his brother quickly spread his wings, blocking his way. Newt took a step back.

"I talked to a lot of people this morning, Gally, now just get out of my way," mumbled Newt, giving his brother an annoyed look.

"Why so hurry?" Gally's frown deepened.

"Why I have to tell you?" Newt snapped back, surprised at his own boldness.

"I'm your older brother," Gally blustered the state like it explained everything.

Newt was taken aback and bit the inside of his cheek, fidgeting. He knew he should just tell Gally he had a meeting for his bio project, it was a simple answer and the truth. But somehow the unsettling feeling that coiled in his stomach made him tell a lie.

"I'm gonna hang out with Minho," he said, and realized there was still some truth in it. He smiled innerly and suddenly felt guilty for somewhat using his friend to make an excuse. But even if he wasn't going to Minho's house, it was still totally normal thing to come over his partner's place to do project, right?

Gally gave him a cool, long gaze, then lowered his wings. But before he could ran upstairs, Gally grabbed his shoulder and said, his tone low and scratchy, "Don't get too close to any Darkors, you won't like my action to them."

The threat chilled Newt's bones, but he said nothing, just gulped and hastily rushed upstairs.

And he decided to skip meal with his family as well.

~~~~~~~~~

Clean, neat, sweet smelled, Newt stood in front of Minho's house, not so much confident, but enough. He knew he was looking better than the first time Thomas saw him. The awareness of how much he was affected by Thomas' thought about his appearance paused Newt's action abruptly and he felt a hot wave heating up from his toes to his head. No one had created this feeling to Newt before so he just stood there on the threshold and let the freezing breeze wash over him and cool him down a little.

The door opened even before Newt could ring the bell. And it was Thomas. It seemed like he had been scouting through his room window when waiting for Newt to come.

"Hey handsome!" Thomas greeted, sounding like purring with flirtatious voice as checking Newt up and down. _'Is he flirting me?'_ —Newt asked himself, and immediately dismissed the thought. Newt got used to girls flirting him but not a boy, ever. And Newt even didn't know what to think and react to this sort.

"Can I come in?" Newt asked, trying hard to be cool.

Thomas lips pouted a little at his detached response then he stepped aside to let him in.

Thomas led them upstairs and into the room next to Minho's room. It looked exactly the same like the Asian boy room's, equally big with the same furnitures and their positions, and the unmistakable giant window, except looking more messy with all books tossing around and clothes hanging around. Newt stood on the door line, hesitating.

"We should be in Minho's room," he suggested, head tilting towards Minho's room door.

"Do you mind the mess? Sorry I'm not a neat freak," Thomas snorted, but he quickly ran around his room to gather his stuff. Then dumped them in one pile in the corner of his room.

"It's not what I mean." Newt frowned.

"He's out," Thomas just said curtly, and came back to the door where Newt was still standing uncomfortably, yanked Newt's bag out of his shoulder and casually tossed it on his bed. Then he hopped up a little with a small flap of his wings and flopped down onto his bed.

"Are you coming in or not?" Thomas raised one dark eyebrow, already lying on his stomach, wings spreading idly.

Biting his lips, Newt stepped in and made his way to Thomas. When he stood beside the bed, the dark-winged boy looked up from the book he had just dig out of Newt's bag at him, raising another dark eyebrow.

"Your wings," said Newt, waving his hand a little to imply what he wanted to say.

"Oh," Thomas took a hint, one of his raven wings lifting a little to put itself lightly to the other side, giving Newt an empty place on the bed.

Newt gracelessly climbed onto the bed, sitting next to sprawling Thomas with his legs crossed under him.

"Are you good at bio?" Thomas asked as he flipped through the book to get the page they needed.

"Enough to pass the exam," Newt said and rummaged his bag for his pencil case.

"Great. Now read the book," Thomas ordered and passed Newt the book. Then he lay his head in his hand, elbow on the mattress and stared up at Newt, his eyes traveling to Newt's wings and back to his face.

"What about you?" Newt asked, confused. He really did not want to be the one of a pair who did every work, it felt like being used.

"I can be a lab mice. You can do experiment on my wings," Thomas offered, wings flapping a little suggestively.

Newt gave Thomas a disbelieving look. No one offered their wings like this. Or at least, no Lightor. Newt barely knew about Darkors' conceptions towards wings' preservation after all.

"Alright. Just kidding. I've read through the book before you came. It's your turn."

Newt gave Thomas another disbelieving look.

"You've read through a two-hundred-page book in an hour?" Newt asked in shock.

"Half," Thomas answered, wriggling his eyebrows.

"So why I'm here? I just could be reading at my house."

"Newt. It's a project for a pair of students. Not for a single one." Thomas raised two of his fingers and waved them in front of Newt's face.

"But—"

His fingers came to rest on Newt's lips, cutting him off, "No, no, no, no. No but. Do you know why our teacher required a pair of same sex students?"

Newt swallowed then shook his head, lips still pressed by Thomas' fingers.

"It's because we can have a live object to see how things work with our wings. Now read the shucking book," Thomas exclaimed, shaking his head like he had no idea why Newt could be this dummy.

Newt said nothing at that, just nodded. And he began reading the book. It was huge and had a lot of specific vocabularies, but Thomas, surprisingly an intelligent student, explained them to Newt.

He was in the middle of the book when something funny grumbled from his stomach. Newt thought Thomas would laugh at him. Instead, he groped for his phone and ordered a pizza for both of them. Newt had no intent on peeping at Thomas' phone but the image the dark-haired boy set for his wallpaper was a pair of familiar wings. Wings that had the same colorings and size with Newt's wings. He blinked and turned his head to elsewhere but the phone and reminded himself not to be paranoid.

When the pizza came, Newt almost forgot about it and smiled thankfully as he crammed the pizza with Thomas, feeling more comfortable than eating meals with his own family who continuously fretting about the merge of Lightors and Darkors or about Newt failing his flying test or all the things Newt didn't want to hear. Newt liked it when he had a good meal in a good company, like with Minho or this new student, Thomas.

"Are you into boys?" Thomas asked out of the blue at one point and Newt just simply and inelegantly spilled out all the coke from his mouth that he had just took a sip. The drink splashed all over Thomas' sweater and even his face.

"Holy crap," Newt cursed as he pulled some tissues from the box between them and hastily wiped the drops off Thomas' face. "I'm really, really sorry," he apologized frantically when Thomas blinked his eyes open, some tiny drops still hanging on his long eyelashes.

"Slim it, man. It's alright," Thomas said and he rose up to his feet. When he reached the wardrobe, he zipped down the zipper on the back of his sweater. When it was totally undone, the glimpse of Thomas' straight spine between the pair of his wings revealed. His skin was milky and Newt could see some moles scattering on his back. As Thomas grabbed at each of the sleeve, Newt knew that behind those black wings, the wool cloth was slowly falling down from his broad shoulders with each pull, and Newt turned his head to the other side, avoiding the scene and preventing himself from imagining Thomas' bare shoulders. Newt had seen boys naked before, but watching Thomas changing his clothes was just a wrong and creepy thing to do. Newt felt his face warm right now and he had never been in this state before.

When Thomas came back to sit down on the floor in front of Newt, he was in a thin white T-shirt like he didn't feel the cold of the winter. His pale complexion and the binding white color of the fabric stroke out his stark black wings, and the white light from the bulb made his feathers look enchantingly sleek with some flashes of blue.

"Back to earth, Newt." Thomas snapped his fingers, pulling Newt back from his intense observation. "Finish your pizza, it's getting cold."

Newt nodded, saying nothing.

"So," Thomas started again when Newt was chewing on his pizza, "back to our earlier discussion, are you into boys, or nah?"

At that Newt, again, choked on his morsel and coughed violently, this time Newt learned the lesson so he clamped his hand on his mouth to prevent food from spilling out. Through the blurriness of his watery eyes, Newt could see Thomas get all panicked, shoving him his coke and Newt clumsily grabbed it, drink it up with a desperate need. When his lungs functioned back to normality, Thomas looked at him apologetically but expectantly at the same time.

"Uh—" said Newt tentatively, "No?" and finished it with his intonation raising a little, strange to his own ears.

"Is that an answer?" Thomas narrowed his eyes at him, confused.

"Yes?" Newt replied with the same intonation.

After a long moment, Newt talked into the stillness between them. "My family, they're just . . . not inclined to homosexuality." That was an understatement, Newt knew.

Newt could hear the sigh Thomas breathe out at that. His face shut down a little. "Does that have something to do with your answer, your _'no'_ answer?" Thomas asked quietly.

"I don't know," Newt admitted, feeling like shit right now. Newt realized how much Thomas' implication hit him. It sounded like _'Don't let your family's hatred towards homosexual people affect your real person.'_

"I never had feelings for boys before," Newt added when Thomas stayed silent.

"But you still might have in the future, right?" Thomas asked after a long pause, his voice containing something like hope and encouraging.

"Why are you asking about this, Tommy?" Newt asked, and felt bad right after that at how dismissive he was now. But really, Newt and Thomas just knew each other for only a week. It was not a normal and appropriate thing when asking about someone's gender orientation right at the first talk. At least, it was what Newt thought it was.

To his surprise, Thomas didn't dig any further, he just said with a crooked smile, "Sorry. I just—" but he didn't finish his sentence. Instead, he grabbed the pizza box and their plastic cups and stood up. "I should go clean up."

Thomas didn't go far though. He throw them negligently at another corner of his room which was not occupied by the pile of books and clothes earlier.

"We should forget all about this talk and come back to our bio stuff," Thomas said as he jumped onto the bed. 

His face was not showing happiness like when they first entered the room, but not showing any disappointment or accusation either. So Newt just nodded, "Good that."

When he finished the book after nearly two hours, Thomas and him agreed on checking Thomas' wings in the next meeting as Minho came back from Ably's house and knocked on the door of Thomas' room, in his hand already holding a PS3 controller in an inviting manner.

Thomas lay on his stomach flatly with his chin on his hands as he watched Minho and Newt sit on the floor with backs against the bed, playing game. And Newt couldn't help but feel Thomas behind him and piercing a hole in his head. When Newt turned around to look at him, Thomas just slowly and openly averted his eyes.

"Please don't take offense or anything about earlier. I just asked out of curiosity. Don't feel too uncomfortable around me, okay?" Thomas said as he opened the door for Newt to get home.

The chilly coldness creeped into Newt's body and he shuddered, arms automatically wrapped around himself. He was regretting not wearing warmer but only two layers of clothes.

"Alright. I won't. Just—" said Newt uneasily, "don't talk about it again, shall we? I just don't get used to talking about my gender, not only with you but anyone. I never liked anyone, neither girls nor boys, so I—uh—don't really kno—" Newt stammered, but being cut off by Thomas.

Apparently Newt hadn't noticed Thomas yanking a blue wool scarf from the coat stand beside the door when Newt had been busy rambling. And Thomas reached up and wound it around Newt's neck.

"I understand. Go home, it's cold out here," Thomas said gently as he knotted the scarf, tugging it a little to tighten the knot. The scarf warmed up Newt's whole body. Newt really couldn't tell it was because of the scarf or Thomas' caring action.

"Yeah, right," Newt said shyly as he ducked his head a little. The scarf covered his mouth and his voice sounded muffled through it, "See ya!"

As he halfway walked to his house which was luckily near Minho's one, he turned his head back to give the house one last look, and to his surprise, Thomas still stood at the threshold, watching him. The light from inside the house created a silhouette of Thomas and it looked like he was gleaming against the darkness of the night. His wings flickered a little when their eyes met.

Newt turned his head back to look at his house which could be visible from where he was, the door was closed and everything was drowned in blackness.

Newt turned his head around, again, and still found himself being watched by Thomas. 

And Newt gave him a smile, a bright smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have to say sorry that Newt's family in this fic is quite, you know, not nice, if it's the word. And I'd like to say Thank all of you for your supporting and encouraging!!! <3333


	4. Chapter 4

"Everything is great, huh?" Minho asked and clapped Thomas' back. Thomas let his eyes wander around, taking in movements on the field.

"Yeah. The field is large, the teammates are all competitive and assholes. They all gave me scornful glances in the locker room. What can be more," said Thomas, grimacing as he saw Gally who was rallying his teammates into lines for round 2. Minho and Thomas were relieved from the second round by the coach, he said they had done enough for today. And Gally was so pissed off.

"That can be more," Minho said and he pointed to the direction of some blonde boy with long legs and long wings running across the field. Newt. Thomas felt the smile creep up on his face at the sight of the blonde boy. It had been a couple of days since their last met. Thomas was just so sad that he only had one class with Newt on Monday. But it was Friday today and there would be only two more days to wait. Thomas really wanted to ask Newt to hang out but he didn't have guts anymore after stupidly prying Newt's gender orientation. Thomas had been so impolite.

But hey, Newt had smiled at him when they were parting that night. The smile was so open and sincere and made Thomas' stomach stutter every time he thought about it. So everything was alright between them, right? Both of Newt and he had agreed on not thinking about that so there was no wrong in saying _'Hi'_ , Thomas decided.

"HEY NEWT. . ." Thomas shouted, which earned him another string of disdain looks from his teammates who were already in lines. 

Thomas really didn't give a damn since the boy he called immediately reacted to someone giving him attention, clumsily tripping over his own feet and halted. Newt waved back, shyly, at Thomas. But even from the distain, Thomas could see Newt glance at his brother Gally, whose glare was shifting from Thomas to Newt and back, and avoided Thomas' direction hastily then continued his practice.

"Why does he have to be that scared of his brother?" Thomas asked, feeling somewhat disturbed.

"He's scared of disappointing people," said Minho, then added when he saw Thomas' questioning expression, "Newt was born in a noble family. The only thing he has to do is the right thing, of course to his family's belief. His brother holds a leadership, making his parents proud. Newt holds a limp in his right wing, and he keeps himself believing he always disappoints his parents."

"A limp?" Thomas felt all his disturbance leaving and a wave of sorrow hit him. Nothing worse than a fail wing.

"Yeah. When he was smaller, one time he flew too high, beyond his limitation and fell. When I asked him why he had done that, he only said he just wanted to have a little taste of freedom," Minho recalled, his eyes looking distantly into the memory. And the expression was sad.

Thomas looked back from Minho to the field where his teammates were flying upwards and around, and on the yard Newt was still running, his wings spreading a little as not to touch the ground. With all sweaty-haired appearance, Newt looked older than his real age, you could feel how much he had been through on his face alone. Newt ran and ran and ran when others flew above him, but he didn't let himself feel disheartened. Like he was trying to get his freedom not by his wings, but by his heroic effort. Thomas could see how much of an prisoner Newt felt being when he was born in a family that deprived all his freedom to be himself. From the way he checked his brother's reactions to the way he talked about himself and his family with a deep insecurity. Too many expectations led to too many disappointments.

"We should take a shower. We reek," Minho interrupted his thoughts, pulling him up of the bench.

"Yeah," Thomas said. And he left the field, but only after looking back at Newt for some more moments.

~~~~~~~~~

When Thomas stepped out of the bath in the locker room, Newt stepped in, and they bumped into each other.

Newt was taller than Thomas, at least an inch, but with his always ducking head and slacking shoulders, he seemed smaller than Thomas. And when they bang into each other, Newt's whole face collided with Thomas' shoulder and collarbone.

"Ow, I'm so sorry," Newt mumbled as Thomas said, "You okay?"

Newt looked up and his eyes widened, his cutely small nose burning the color red. Thomas had no idea if it was the result of his nose smashing into Thomas' bone or Newt was just blushing at the fact that for a second his lips had crashed the upper part of Thomas' chest. And when his gaze dropped to Thomas' bare chest, Newt jerked back violently and the color red spread all over his face. Thomas allowed himself for a moment that Newt was blushing. 

And a fascinating thought popped up in Thomas' mind. He was half-naked, only wrapping a towel around his waist. And Newt's fair skin flushed an adorable pinky color. Thomas wondered if he got all this shy at any half-naked boy or just him.

"Yeah, I'm okay," Newt stuttered, then sped into the shower, one of his wings brushing lightly Thomas' arm and the contact made him shudder like freezing burn.

Thomas dismissed the feeling quickly, not let himself perversely have any imagination of Newt's feathers against his skin. It was a wrong imagination.

The second person Thomas bumped into was not a pleasing guy. Gally. He stopped him in the hallway.

"Stay away from my brother, or you'll have to regret it," Gally yapped right after he saw Thomas' face.

"Easy," Thomas soothed him like he soothed an aggressive pup, "We're just partners in bio class, no big deal."

"Partners? He didn't tell me about that," Gally growled angrily.

"Well, you should stop interrogating him and start respecting his own life then," said Thomas, flatly. It just came out of his mouth like this. And Thomas realized he was intervening too much in Newt's family life.

Gally said no word, just glowering at him, then he raised his fingers to his mouth and whistled.

A moment later, two of his teammates—Thomas was right now considering if he should see them as his teammates or not—dragged a Darkor boy by his armpits to where Gally and he were standing.

When they got closer, Thomas realized who was that Darkor boy. It was Jeff, his neighbor when they had lived in their former area back then. Jeff was younger than Thomas one year, and skinny enough to be easily dragged around.

"You know this faggot?" Gally, with all his tomato nose and grumpy face, smirked smugly as if he had caught Thomas' weakness.

Thomas calculated the best way to get both Jeff and him out of this battle.

"No," Thomas lied without a blink of his eyes.

"No?" Gally asked, the smugness fading and being replaced by a frown.

Thomas knew Gally would be turned down if Thomas had no acquaintance with the boy he was about to hit. There was no point bullying someone that Thomas hardly cared.

Thomas shrugged, "No. Why are you asking me that?" Thomas kept lying, bluntly.

Jeff looked up at him with his knees on the floor, shocked at the fact of being rejected. Thomas really wanted to helped him up and say sorry for a thousand times for somehow involving him into this klunk. But right now, all Thomas could wish for was Jeff pretending not to know him as well. It would be over sooner if they cooperated at this point.

Jeff gave him a hurt look, but didn't open his mouth. Instead, he pursed his lips into thin line and ducked his head like he was preparing himself for some blows from Gally and his friends. Thomas looked at him, trying his best not to show his sympathy for the boy and his anger for Gally.

Gally stayed put for a long moment, finally, he gestured his friends to let go of Jeff. Thomas suppressed a sigh of relief.

Jeff barely rose to his feet when another boy ran towards them. Clint, who Jeff babbled about to Thomas once in a while, even showed him a picture of this boy with a face full of happiness.

"Hey, hey, stop, don't you dare do anything to him," Clint shouted as he approached them.

Thomas, this time, sighed bitterly.

"Thomas, you're Thomas, right? You have to protect him, you're his friend," Clint cried out frantically as he reached Thomas. And immediately reached out to support his friend from the floor.

Gally looked smug again. With a nod of his head, each of his two disciples grabbed and kept a tight hold of Jeff and Clint.

"Ah, love reunion. How touching! So which one should I beat first?" Gally asked, satisfied. "Tell me, Thomas."

Thomas closed his eyes for one moment to accept his fate, and opened it again.

"Me," said Thomas defiantly.

Gally breathed out a laugh. "Alright, you filthy Darkor. You wanna protect your queer friends, come and take the beat for them," challenged Gally. "You may fly faster than any of us but let's see if you're adequate to fighting or not. Come here!" 

Gally was already in the fighting position and pulled his fist back to gain monument. When Gally sped his fist towards Thomas' face, Thomas simply and gracefully stepped asides. Gally might be bigger and stronger than him, but nowhere near lissom. Then Gally, with all his weight, stumbled forwards and lost balance. When he regained it, he flung his arm backwards, trying to punch Thomas again. But Thomas, with all of his speed and delicacy and a swift movement, caught Gally's wrist and twisted it behind his back. Gally cried out painfully. And Thomas wrestled him down onto the ground and pressed his stomach flat against the floor with one of his knees pushing Gally's back down and one hand still holding tightly his wrist. Gally's white wings went frozen under Thomas' body.

Behind him, Thomas heard some struggling and he sensed Gally's friends approaching him. Thomas spun his head around and threw them a stern look. They halted altogether, and hesitatingly stepped back. Jeff and Clint gave him an admiring look. Gally's body still writhed beneath Thomas' knee and hand, and Gally kept cursing through his gritted teeth.

Thomas wouldn't have let go of Gally any time soon if it hadn't been for the blonde stepping out of the locker room and shouting at him.

"Bloody hell, Tommy, what are you doing?" Newt screamed as he ran towards the group, then he shoved Thomas out of his brother's body. "Stay the hell away from him" Newt kept shouting as he helped Gally up to his feet, arms around the older's waist to support him. His hair and wings still damped and streamed with water drops from the shower.

Newt's face was full of anger. And it gnawed Thomas looking him like this, especially when his anger was for Thomas but no one else who deserved it, for example, Gally.

When Thomas finally tore his eyes off Newt and looked at Gally, he saw blood lines dropping from his giant nostrils, making them look more like a tomato.

"I told you, Newton. There's no good sticking around with those nasty Darkors," said Gally furiously and spat out the blood dripping onto his lips. When he wiped his the blood off mouth with the back of his hand, Thomas could see him winning smirk, clearly taking advantage of the situation.

"It's not like what it seems, Newt," said Thomas with his low voice, raising his hands up in chest level in a convincing manner.

"Yeah, Gally is the one wh—" Both Jeff and Clint said, but being cut off by Newt.

"Enough," he blustered, which made all the noises around them quiet down at his outburst.

With that, Newt led his brother in the direction of the infirmary. Gally looked over his shoulder a little, and gave Thomas a sneer. His disciples ran after them like pets.

"What have I missed?" Minho asked worriedly as reaching Thomas. "I heard Newt's shout from the bathroom."

"I think I'd have to do the bio project by myself then," Thomas said.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New chapter. Quite long and fluffy haha. Hope you guys will like it.
> 
> ~~~
> 
> Enjoyyy!!!! <3

This street had been and would be always this secluded on Sundays, much to Newt's surprise. It was like people all decided to sleep in on Sunday mornings after a hardworking week, or fly somewhere else to spend their weekends. His family did the same as well. His parents were having a short trip to the southern beach, but it was for a business issue, not for swimming. They barely enjoyed things that they benefited nothing from. They had departed the Friday night and would get back here this evening. And Gally his big brother was sleeping over at his girlfriend's house. That was the reason why Newt could have some free time for himself to wander around the street without being asked a bunch of questions. 

Newt wondered, bitterly, why only him his family put much restraint on, and realized, more bitterly, that Newt's friends were the reason. Not that Newt's friends had any problem, they were all good. Just that Newt rubbing shoulders with them was the concern to his parents. _Minho's family was supportive to Darkors, Clint's and Alby's parents were not white collar_ , that was what Newt's parents had showed him why there was no good making friends with them. But he did anyways, much to his parents's disagreement, or he would have no friend whom he could feel comfortable talking with.

Newt was now sociable with Thomas, a Darkor, whose family, for the record, was not businessmen. Not that Newt inquired Minho for that information. Okay, Newt had inquired Minho about Thomas' family. His Asian friend had asked him _'You care about it? Does it really matter to you?'_ , and Newt had kept his mouth shut. _'No'_ was the answer he wanted to form, but deep down, Newt knew it would matter one way or another to his parents, not to mention, again, that Thomas was a Darkor. But Thomas was his bio partner, his parents could do nothing to it but reluctantly accept in frustration. After the fight that Gally got Thomas and himself into and the broken nose that Gally brought back home, the frustration reached its new level of intensity. Newt's mother had even called for Mrs. Chancellor to ask her to change Newt's partner but there was no success, every pair had been paired up was her answer.

And now he found himself in front of Minho's house or, to be more honest, his bio partner's.

The morning sunlight warmed Newt's wings as he rang the bell on the right side of the door. Newt hadn't slept well these days but he didn't feel asleep and instead felt super sober when standing at this threshold, waiting for a certain person to open the door.

At the next second, there was a series of flapping sounds behind his back. Newt spun around and found Thomas already standing behind him. More than one time, Newt had caught himself imagining the picture of Thomas spreading his wings and flying through the sky and how amazing his wings would be at that scene. Newt almost had a chance to see Thomas practice flying but when he jogged into the field that Friday, Thomas had already done his practice.

"So coincident," Newt said, trying to make his tone neutral. "You've just come home?" He asked, looking anywhere but Thomas' face.

Thomas shrugged, "Nah. I was upstairs," he answered with a nonchalant voice and when Newt dared gave his face a glance, he saw Thomas' face a blank expression.

And Newt realized, with the weight on his chest, that they were talking like strangers. If Thomas was mad at him for the reason that Newt had yelled at his face after that fight, Newt couldn't blame him.

The awful silence followed them.

Finally, Newt asked, our of curiosity, "So why not opened the doo—" and being cut off by Thomas. Newt felt like he'd recently been cut off more times than his whole life before just by this mere boy.

"I couldn't fly down from upstairs inside the house," Thomas blurted out loudly and he jerked back a little, like he himself hadn't known the words just slipping out. "Too confined. Flying out through the window was much easier," Thomas said, trying to lower his voice, and at Newt's questioning look, he added, "and faster. I just wanted to meet you as soon as possible. And when I saw you press the button, I couldn't help but—" This time Thomas cut himself off by clearing his throat and pinching his nose, like he was reminding himself not to give too much information.

Newt's heart hammered in his chest when Thomas' words sank in.

Thomas stepped a little closer to Newt when he said, quietly, "I thought you wouldn't come," then more quietly it was almost inaudible, "I thought you wouldn't want to see me again."

"Why not?" Newt heard himself ask, like the words just left his mouth without control.

"I hit your brother," Thomas said, quite frankly. But strangely enough, it didn't bother Newt like it should be.

"Tommy, I come here to talk about it," Newt said. "I know it's not your fault."

"You do?" Thomas asked, his voice raising a little.

Taking a deep breath, Newt nodded. He said, with his head ducking, not really wanting to look Thomas in the eyes after how he had behaved in the fight. "Gally's my brother, I know him better than anyone. And he had threatened me about it before our meeting last Monday. It was my fault that I didn't take precaution. And I'm so sorry for acting like an ass at that fight," Newt confessed, his voice thick to his own ears. "Clint had come and told me the truth, I myself had known the truth, but if I hadn't pretended to be on Gally's side and instead stood up for you guys, Gally wouldn't stop picking quarrels with you and your friends."

After a beat of the heart, Newt felt Thomas' fingers under his chin, lifting his face up to look straight at him. Thomas' eyebrows pulled together with confusion and an unreadable glint in his bright brown eyes, Thomas searching his face. Newt flinched at the touch, but found himself not taking any step back. Thomas seemed to be surprised at his action as much as Newt. Before Newt could do anything to react, Thomas dropped his hand and put both of his hands into his jeans pockets, as if to refrain himself from any mindless action.

"Gally just saw us talking in the hall that Monday morning and he acted like such of a jackass?" Thomas asked, unbelieved.

Newt clutched at the folded blue scarf in his hands, and Thomas just knew.

"He saw it? On your neck?" Thomas asked, sighing. His face put on a disfavor expression.

Newt wouldn't say the truth that Gally actually barged in Newt's room that Friday morning and saw Newt sleeping with his head laying on the scarf covering his real pillow. Newt had slept with it under his head since the night Thomas had given it to him. Newt didn't understand why he'd done it, but he really just wanted to keep it close to him like something precious that could keep him warm. And as unlucky he was, Gally had seen it on Thomas' neck that Monday morning after Newt's first bio class, and Gally just knew whom it belonged to.

"Yeah," Newt lied instead. Then he raised it towards Thomas, "I come here to give it back to you by the way."

"Did Gally tell you to bring it back to me?" Thomas asked, annoyance clear on his face and his voice.

"No," Newt lied, again. Gally had blustered if Newt didn't toss it away, he would burn it, and tell their parents on him. Newt was scared of the only scenario and realized how docile he was to his family.

"Do you wanna keep it?" Thomas kept asking.

 _Yes_ , Newt wanted to say. But what came out of his mouth was "I don't know."

He had expected Thomas would be upset at that. But Thomas' reaction came as a surprise. He smiled, put his hands out of the pockets and took the scarf from Newt's hands, their fingers brushing.

"Alright. _'I don't know'_ is a better answer than _'No'_ in this case. So I would like to let myself believe that you wanted to keep it but was not allowed," Thomas said casually. And suddenly he raised the scarf up to his nose and smelled it. Then he looked at Newt, surprise and amusement gleaming in his eyes.

Newt blinked repeatedly at the action, embarrassed. Thomas noticed it and knew it.

"It has a strange smell. You washed it?" Thomas asked and Newt just let out a sigh of relief because Thomas noticed the smell but didn't recognized it was the scent of the shampoo Newt used.

"Yeah," Newt said, grinning.

"Great. I haven't washed it for a while and now it smells of expensive perfume." Thomas laughed joyfully, sniffing the scarf for the second time, and the third before wearing it around his neck.

Newt suddenly felt quite terrified at the fact that he had slept on the unwashed scarf and recalled Thomas' messy room and two piles of clothes and books and trashes.

"Oi, kiss each other already." A child-like voice pulled Newt out of his thoughts and when he looked up to find the source of the voice, it turned out that there was indeed a kid peeking his head over the huge window frame of Minho's room. After a second, Minho's head emerged as well.

Out of reflex, Newt gave a brief look in his own house's direction and luckily there was no one stalking Thomas and him talking except this chubby and curly brown-haired kid.

"Chuck. Get your head inside. It's an adult business," Thomas shouted at the boy then addressed Newt, saying "My baby brother."

"Just kiss him already, Greenie. We're dying waiting up here," the kid, Chuck, shouted back.

"Just Chuck. Not me," Minho yelled as well to them, but given by the smirk tugging on his lips, Newt knew Minho was actually expecting and hoping for a kiss. Newt felt his cheeks burning.

Thomas opened his mouth again, and this time Newt was the one who interrupted him.

"Wow, wow, guys. No need to shout and scream. The neighbors will kill us if we keep communicating like this," Newt said persuasively.

"Yes. Yes, we will." Newt swore he heard someone say it dimly from one of these houses in this quiet morning street.

"Do you have time? We should go inside," Thomas asked.

Newt checked the time and it was quite early. 9 a.m. Gally wouldn't come back until afternoon and even if he got home earlier, he wouldn't get all worked up knowing his brother just coming over Minho's house. It was an extraordinary luck that Gally didn't know Thomas was living under the same roof with Minho.

"Yeah. We should get inside. Do you bring key?" Newt asked.

Thomas gaped at the question. "Shuck," he cursed, then looked up again at Chuck and Minho, who was still stalking them.

"Hey, Chuck. Throw me a main door key," said Thomas.

Chuck disappeared from the window frame, after some moments, he came back with a key chain, dangling it with his hand. "Come and get it," Chuck said, all chubby cheek and sweet voice.

Thomas huffed. And finally, eventually, Newt saw Thomas spreading his wings. Those obsidian wings looked more captivating and vigorous than any set of wings Newt had ever seen before. They were spreading wide with all perfectly well-proportioned layers of black feathers. And when being looked this close and clear, Newt could saw the blue gleam were not only on the tip of each feather but covering it from the shaft to the barb with all shades from stark dark blue to ocean blue. And Newt felt himself knocked over with feather, literally and figuratively.

Newt just stood there, dumbfounded as Thomas started to hop up and flap his wings. And everything came into slow motions after that. Newt's body spun around punctually as his gaze followed Thomas flying up towards the window. Thomas just looked purely beautiful like this, like a great warrior on the battle field, all imposing and lively grace.

And Thomas crashed his body hard into the window glass as both of Chuck and Minho closed the door with a quick movement right before Thomas could touch the key chain.

"Hey, unfair," Thomas exclaimed, wings flapping continuously and even standing away from him at least fifteen feet, Newt could feel the winds blowing from each beat of Thomas' wings.

There came the muffled sounds of Chuck and Minho from the other side of the window glass. A moment later, Thomas flew back down to Newt, face creasing like he was in pain.

"They said you had to get in through the window as well," Thomas informed with a groan, hands flinging upwards.

Newt felt himself numb at those words. After a long silence, Newt said, "I think I should just go home." And he turned on his heel in his house's direction.

Thomas grabbed his wrist, stopping him. "Wait."

Newt spun his body again to look at him, he could see the anxiety come into Thomas' eyes. "Minho told me about your limb. I know you—" said Thomas, his voice soft.

"Yes, Tommy. I can't fly anymore. I should just get home already," Newt said, trying to keep his voice steady and feeling the pressure of pain in his chest as the words just came out of his mouth.

"I didn't mean to say that," said Thomas, shaking his head and stepped closer to Newt. When they were breathing each other's air, Thomas looked around like he was checking if there was anyone besides them on the street, for Newt's sake of course, Newt's eyes following his gaze as well. When they found themselves all alone (except two horrible and mischievous persons upstairs), Thomas brought Newt's wrist he was still grabbing upwards to his shoulder, and put it there. Newt's thumb was touching the blue scarf as his palm was laying on Thomas' broad and toned shoulder. Newt could feel Thomas' muscles moving under his hand as Thomas let go of his wrist and flailed his arm along his side. A moment later, Newt's other hand was laid on Thomas' other shoulder.

"I was saying that I knew you didn't get a perfect balance when you flew. And I know you want to come in and play with Chuck, your eyes just lit up when you saw him all chubby and lovely," said Thomas, eyeing him closely and intensely. "Hold onto me, Newt, I will get you up there," Thomas whispered into Newt' ear as they were standing close enough.

Before Newt could have any words of protest, Thomas' arms had embraced his waist and Newt could see the carefulness Thomas had as not to touch Newt's wings. Then Newt's body was just simply pressed against Thomas like this, the warmth of Thomas' chest and arms embracing him. Then he hopped up, both of Newt's feet leaving the ground for the fist time in four years and the feeling of leaving the solid surface still scared him. Newt's hands instinctively slid around Thomas' neck and hugged him tightly, his face nuzzled into the blue scarf as he tried to block everything out.

Somewhere in his mind, Newt heard the sounds of Thomas' wings beating in the air, felt the winds created by each of a flap, and Thomas' heartbeat against his chest. Newt wished Thomas didn't sense the thundering of his heart, the trembling of his body or the short pants in his breathing. The overwhelm of Newt's emotions now was either the result of the flight or the hold of Thomas on his body, Newt was not sure.

A fraction of a second seemed like a whole time of this universe. Everything just jolted to a halt.

And Newt heard, vaguely, Thomas' voice saying, _"It's aright. I'm here with you."_


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to say many thanks to all of you for your great support. I'm so so happy you guys like this story <3 now, enjoy the new chapter, folk!!!!

"Wow, look at these colors of his wings," praised Chuck as he stared with wide eyes at Newt's wings. "They're just gorgeous."

"Like father, like son," Minho remarked, "Thomas said exactly the same thing."

Thomas smacked Minho's head for revealing his fanboying session. And Minho smacked him back as Chuck continued his observation.

"Can I have the same colors?" Chuck asked admiringly.

"I thought you wanted your wings to flash blue colors like mine," Thomas said with affected hurt in his voice.

"I'm a child. I change my mind a lot," Chuck pointed out frankly, in which Thomas had to roll his eyes at the accuracy.

The owner of the gorgeous wings had just stayed still and kept all quiet since he manage to get into this room. Thomas had to yell a lot at Chuck and Minho to open the window as those two horrible boys just kept chuckling and giggling and cackling and winking at him with expressions that said _'We're giving you a chance to hold Newt longer, you'll thank us one day'_.

And right now, the blush was blooming on Newt's cheeks and Thomas just decided to tune out all the conversation between Chuck and Minho to admire it.

"Greenie?" Newt's voice snapped him back to reality.

So apparently Chuck and Minho had been talking and discussing Thomas' nickname.

"What does it mean?" Newt asked curiously.

At that Thomas had to clamped his palm onto Chuck's mouth to stop him. But Minho's mouth was still free. Damnit.

"Because Thomas is a horrible kisser," Minho informed, laughing, "so Chuck calls him Greenie because he kisses like a newbie."

"Shut it already," Thomas grumbled and let his hand off Chuck's mouth. Traitors, Thomas thought, why he even told Minho about it in the first place?

"Oh," said Newt in tiny voice and gave Thomas an unreadable look. Thomas had to shake his head protestingly at Newt to show him that that wasn't the truth but Newt just moved his gaze towards the mattress, some strands of his hair falling over his forehead and hiding his expression. _This is so embarrassing_ , Thomas cried out in his mind.

"Let's play a game," Chuck suddenly squeaked as he had his arms wrapped around Thomas' neck to get his attention.

"What game?" Thomas asked as he tore his eyes off Newt to glance at Chuck.

"Mom made you three boxes of cupcake," said Chuck sweetly, raising three fingers up to act upon his talk.

"Yes, so. . .?"

"So I think we should make a competition to see who could eat ten cupcakes quicker," Chuck said with ten fingers up, "There'll be two team," and two fingers, "Minho and I are team A, Newt and you are team B," and index finger pointing between four of them all sitting on the bed.

"Chuck, if you wanna eat the cupcakes, just say it. I don't mind you bringing back home one box," Thomas said, shaking his head.

"I think we should play it though," Minho chimed in, agreeing.

"Do you want to eat the cupcakes too? I could give you one box," said Thomas, not impressed. And he talked to Newt in a more delightful tone, "I will give you the last one if you want, Newt."

Newt raised his hands up a little, shaking them and shaking his head, "Uh, no thanks. Your mother made them for you, you should at least keep one."

"Don't be such a boring guy, Thomas," persuaded Minho. And his tiny eyes lit up, "Ah. The losing team has to do whatever being told by the winning team, that's the deal."

"Awesome," Chuck agreed cheerfully. Then he inched closer to Newt, looking at him with big puppy eyes and said, "Newt, say you wanna play it."

Newt looked back at Chuck thoughtfully, his shy expression turned into something mature like a big brother but at the same time the softness appeared on his lips as they curled up into a smile, "Alright."

"No. Newt," Thomas promptly warned, "Don't let him trick you into this. We'll never win. You don't know Chuck's talent at eating," Thomas convinced.

"Chill out, Thomas, it's just a game," Minho said, and leaned towards him and whispered quietly, "Don't you dare tell me you don't wanna see Newt eating cupcakes with all creamy topping."

"Let's play the damn game. Right now," Thomas declared.

And Thomas didn't regret his decision. Newt's small pinky mouth eating the cupcakes was the eighth wonder of the World. It was not sexy like when he ate the cheese pizza, but undoubtedly the most adorable scene Thomas had ever admired. They had to eat as fast as possible so Newt had to chew constantly as he hands messily peeled the wrapping as well as put the cupcakes into his mouth. His lips were sticky with a huge amount of cream as he didn't bother licking it off. Thomas just calmly enjoyed the cupcakes and enjoyed the show in front of his eyes. He would loose anyways so there was no need to put effort in the competition.

And of course, Newt and Thomas lost the game. Thomas still had no regret.

"Be gentle," Newt said as he eventually licked the cream off his lips, but there was a little bit on the corner of his mouth.

"Thomas will have to wipe off the remain cream on your mouth," Chuck announced the punishment immediately.

"That's an easy one," Thomas breathed out a laughter and grabbed a tissue, already about to clean Newt's lips with it.

"With his mouth," Minho finished Chuck's sentence.

Thomas' laughter died out completely as he saw Newt turned white.

"You guys, don't overstep," Thomas said, voice strangled. Thomas wouldn't lie that he didn't like the idea, but it meant involving Newt in doing something he didn't like and the discomfort of Newt was the last thing Thomas wanted. It wouldn't had been a big deal at all if it was just performed between two straight guys. But Thomas had feelings for Newt and Newt was even not sure about himself and the expression on his face was full of fear like he was scared of what it would turn into and what he would turn out. _Being a real gay boy who had a homophobic family_. It was an agonizing pain just only thinking about it.

"Alright, we could change the punishment if you guys—" Minho clearly sensed the tension when he broke the silence but being cut off by no one else but Newt.

"It's okay. We had make a deal, let's just get it over with," Newt said, the fear left his face all at once as his gaze met Thomas' one. Thomas just felt himself frozen until a hand put on his hand. Thomas looked down at them and looked up, it was Newt's hand on his.

Newt nodded at him with a sort of small smile that lovers would put on their faces every morning waking up next to their significant one that Thomas had saw on thousands of movies. And it pulled Thomas closer until he was sitting face to face with Newt, the distain was so small Thomas could feel Newt's heat radiating off him.

With his free hand, Thomas reached up to cup Newt's jaw, thumb brushing his cheekbone, just lightly like feather against skin since he was trying hard not to put too much affection in his action, or he would frighten Newt away. Thomas leaned in as Newt began to close his eyes, aware of his heart pounding in his ribcage all the way until his lips touched the corner of Newt's mouth. And he didn't hear any sound at all except the short gasp that Newt drew in. Thomas gave Newt an open-mouthed kiss to take the cream away and his lips were soft and taste of strawberry cream. Thomas had to force himself pull out and right before the kiss ended, just for a brief moment—a nanosecond—he felt Newt's lips curving up to press them against his, as if out of reflex. Newt eyes snapped open widely, he seemed surprised at his own reaction. Thomas already missed the warmth of Newt's skin, his lips were now washed over with the cold air of the late winter.

They had not shared the kind of heating kiss, but their breathing was still ragged. Newt's eyes were on him as the second lengthened then he blinked and looked away. Thomas made his hands leave Newt's face with a lingering movement.

"Well done, boys. We should have a second round," both Chuck and Minho said with their eyebrows wiggling.

"No," Thomas heard himself say, seeing the shyness and self-consciousness of the blonde boy. "Newt has to get home for lunch, right?"

Clearly Newt felt grateful for Thomas making an excuse for him as his eyes flickered up at Thomas and gave him that sort of small smile again. Thomas felt something warm coiling in his stomach.

"Yeah, I should hit the road," Newt said and clumsily raised to his feet, dragging his long wings up with him. "See you again soon, Chuck!" He said, ruffling the younger boy's hair.

"See ya soon, Newt!" Chuck grinned, nodding happily.

"I will walk you to the door." Thomas followed suit, grabbing the key chain on the bedside table with him.

Before he got out of the bed, Chuck grabbed his sleeve and mouthed "I like him," as if it was a kind of brother approval.

"Me too," Thomas heard himself say, winking at Chuck.

"Don't say goodbye for hours." Thomas could hear Minho shout after them as Newt lead their way down the stairs.

"So you will come over for our bio project tomorrow, right?" Thomas asked as they got to the door.

"I have a wedding to attend tomorrow evening. Next week?" Newt asked, leaning his shoulders lightly against the door like he didn't want to leave yet.

"Yeah. Remember to learn all the names of wing bone by heart, I'll check you next Monday," Thomas said, tapping his index finger onto the temple of Newt's head.

Newt laughed a little at the action, "Yeah, I will," he said, and his eyes widened a little when he added, "Oh, there's some cream on your lips." And Newt was like on his autopilot when he straightened up and reached up to wipe it off, soft fingers brushing Thomas' lips.

And Newt just stood there absentmindedly peering up at Thomas' lips for a really long moment until Thomas had to reached over to push the door open behind Newt's back. It was just getting more awkward and irritating if Newt didn't lean forwards and just kiss the hell out of him. It seemed like Newt himself didn't know what he really wanted. So Thomas had to help him by giving him two choices, Newt could either kiss him now or step out of this door line and get home.

There was no surprise when Newt cleared his throat as if to calm himself down and stepped out of the door line, giving Thomas one last look before he jogged in his house's direction.

~~~~~~~~~

"So you two had your first kiss, right?" Teresa squealed as they were walking to the canteen at lunch time. Thomas just shrugged. "Awwww, that's so cute. You have to thank Chuck and that Minho boy for thousand times."

About Minho and Chuck, Thomas swore to himself that he would kill the crap out of them someday. When Thomas had came back upstairs, Minho and Chuck had ruthlessly laughed at his face and even acted back their almost kiss with ridiculously excessive movements.

"Not really. Now I hardly look Newt in the eyes without thinking back about that almost kiss." Thomas sighed, rubbing his face wearily. "All I want to do is jump at him and abuse those lips."

"It's normal that you feel like that," Teresa chuckled, and her smiley face scrummed up as Gally and his disciples walked pass them with a scowl on his face. And they all exchanged looks with each other with the same quality of scornfulness.

"Anyways, my cousin's getting married today, I need a partner to tag along. You have time?" Teresa asked when her attention was back on him, her eyes full of expectation.

Thomas had no plan or bio project tonight so "Yeah, I'm free. What's time?"

"Seven."

"I'm dropping in on you at six forty, okay?"

"Perfect."


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hooyay, the wedding, of course it is >:) I have to warn you that there was some tension in this chapter, but nonetheless, the romance made up for it.
> 
> ~~~  
> Enjoy!!!

Newt was, once again, getting late for a meeting. Not a meeting for a bio project—which he wished it had been—it was his cousin's wedding today and Newt had totally forgotten about the time. When he got home, his parents and Gally had already arrived to the wedding before they missed out on the marriage vows.

They had called him and texted him but Newt had put his phone in his bag when he had been running labs with his mind occupied with the almost kiss between Thomas and him the day previous. The tenderness of it still lingered on his lips. Newt barely focused on anything recently. And it was impossible for him to get carried away that terribly much with a mere thought of Thomas, but now the impossibility came into reality. Newt barely knew Thomas, they had been only aware of each other's existence for about two weeks, let alone talked with each other for about four times, not that Newt was counting.

And here he was, storming out of the bathroom after the quickest shower in human history and changing into a flawlessly ironed white shirt and a carefully sewn ivory two-button notch lapel suit which had been prepared for him only in haste. The clothes were creased mercilessly under his clumsy hands. Not to mention the fact that it was really hard to fasten with buttons on the back of the suit without anyone helping. Sometimes Newt just had a feeling that his wings were kind of useless, even inconvenient in this sort of situation. Luckily the bow only needed to be simply tucked under the collar of his shirt instead of a cravat needing to be tied meticulously. 

Newt had never been good at dressing up. He bet he would never be. But at least right now he had the suit put on without totally destroying it, his hair combed with a little bit effort and gel, and his family ring around his middle finger. A ring made of platinum and the family name carved on it was a symbol of every honorable family in Lightor tradition, and was worn in formal ceremories. Newt's ring was loose to his finger since he had slimmed down quite much lately, but if he didn't put it on, there was no doubt that his parents would disapprove. So in general, Newt's appearance right now was good enough (just nearly enough) to attend a wedding in Lightor tradition.

~~~~~~~~~

When Newt's first foot was out of the car and touched the ground—after he had nodded a goodbye to his family driver, yes, Newt had a thing for his family servants more than his actual family members—the realization hit him. Newt was in his sport shoes and they were out of the place. Bloody hell. But Newt decided to just ignore them and walked up to Angel Garden where the wedding was being held.

At the first glance, Newt could see that the entrance leading to the garden was decorated with a huge flower gate. Roses from various types twining together made it look like a color bomb, and one of them had a unique color that caught Newt's eyes immediately. Newt refused to acknowledge what he was going to do was wrong, plus he couldn't help it. So he picked up that rose then tugged it in the breast pocket of his vest where there was supposed to be a handkerchief. And the rose was plainly matching his suit in the gorgeous way.

From where he stood under the flower gate, the lake that the garden embraced loomed up, the water surface mirroring the moon hanging on the clear sky and it was just a beautiful view in itself. Newt had flown around this garden like a habit and sometimes sneakily jumped into the lake to swim—it was a shallow lake luckily—which earned him a reproach from his mother, when he was younger and now it became one of the places Newt barely showed up after he stopped using his wings. Newt tried to escape anywhere holding his memories of flying, there was no good in reminiscing things he had lost.

Stepping over the flower gate, Newt was standing on a path leading straight to the wedding dais where the groom and the bright must have made their vows, but there was no couple there excepts some kids running around. So surely Newt had missed out on that part of the wedding, and now there was the party part where people cheering and dancing. It should be like that.

The trees in this front side of the garden were ornamented with silk cylinder lanterns, illuminating orange light throughout the garden, making the place look warm and cozy. The atmosphere provoked some uneasy and detached feelings though. Some of the guests were talking to each other but only whispering, it didn't look like a wedding when people with disdain expression on their face kept talking behind the bride's back.

"A wedding with a Darkor shouldn't be held here, it's like a taint to Angel Garden," whispered someone. And that was the moment Newt realized that there were a small number of Darkors scattering here and there in the garden.

"I have no idea why Ben fell for that Darkor girl. Her black wings are darkening the whole place," another mumbled behind their hand into the other's ear.

"Indeed. As well as her relatives and her friends, they are just not fitting in our society," another replied.

These whispers were all from Lighters, needless to say, and Newt felt sick. Their appearances were full of elegancy and decency, but their minds were full of discriminational judgements.

"Newton, darling, come and join us," Newt's mother voice called him as he tried to block out the dispraises of almost everyone he walked by.

Newt turned to the source of voice and found his parents and Gally sitting at one of the golden clothed tables. Newt automatically approached them and flopped down onto the unoccupied chair next to his brother. Gally glanced at him and his gaze settled on the rose Newt had tugged in his breast pocket earlier. He raised one eyebrow and his face was full of suspiciousness, the gauze on his nose scrunching up a little as he frowned. Newt felt his face warm but Gally just commented 'Nice suit' without inquiring anything else.

Newt sat with his family as their parents talked back and forth about the integration of Lightors and Darkors and given by their tone of voice and their expressions, he knew they didn't like it a bit.

Newt let his gaze wander the garden, trying to tune out his parents' talk like he had done with every one else since he came here, and found his eyes following a familiar figure with a pair of familiar black-blue wings entering the garden. There was a boy on a simple but decent black tuxedo, hand in hand with a girl owning silky black hair and a set of wings that had the same quality of silkiness.

When they turned to the guest table area, Newt realized them. Thomas and Teresa, who had sat next to Thomas in their bio class. They looked like perfect match to each other like this, hand in hand, shoulder bumping shoulder, exchanging easy laughters. Suddenly Newt felt something heavy on his chest. He looked away.

"What's wrong?" Gally asked as Newt turned his head too quickly that the movement was noticeable to everyone sitting near him.

"Nothing," Newt replied immediately and sat up straight to block Gally's vision as not to let him know Thomas was here.

"You—" Gally hissed as his eyes traveled up above Newt's head.

Instinctively, Newt turned his head around one more time to find Thomas and Teresa already right behind his back.

"Hi Newt," said both of them, looking at Newt with smiley faces.

"Why are you here?" Gally asked before Newt could open his mouth.

"It's the wedding of Teresa's cousin so of course we're invited to be here," Thomas smirked defiantly at Gally.

Gally glowered and Teresa yanked Thomas' arm back a little, her striking blue eyes full of concern.

"What's happening here?" Newt heard his father ask.

"Oh. Good evening, sir. Good evening, ma'am," Thomas said as he seemed to realized that these two grownups were Newt's parents. "I'm Thomas, and this isTeresa, we're Newt's classmates," he introduced and reached out for a handshake.

Newt's father didn't bother move his hand. Newt's mother, even more impolite, crossed her arms on her chest, showing her distaste towards them. They both put on the same unpleased expression. Thomas withdrew his hand as the understanding sank into him. Newt felt awful, for Thomas and Teresa and for himself. His parents, one of the most noble person in this society, were acting without decorous manners.

"He's the one who beat me," Gally seemingly decided to add fuel to the flame. Thank you a lot, Gally.

Newt's mother reacted instantly, she unfolded her arms and put them on the table edge and used them to push herself up to her feet.

And she slapped Thomas, right straight in his face. Thomas jerked back reflexly after her palm touched his cheek, and when the slap was over, a line of blood started pouring out from the cut on his cheek. Her family ring had scratched Thomas' face.

"Don't you dare touch my son ever again," she screamed, voice acrid and taut.

"Mother," Newt said, shocked, and already found himself standing between his mother and Thomas, holding her by the arms to calm her down and prevent her from doing anything further. 

When Newt looked back, both of Thomas' and Teresa's faces were full of hurt and something like being insulted. Gally, to Newt's surprise, was not smirking satisfied, there was also a flash of shock on his eyes, but it just appeared for a short moment then being replaced by two eyebrows raising.

"That's enough." In authority voice, his father said, then he went to put his arm around his wife's waist and added, "We should go and meet other guests," and beckoned his older son, "Gally, come with us."

And then three of them were gone, to the other side of the wedding party where people were dancing with each other, swaying back and forth, 'Way back into love' playing in the background.

Newt finally let his eyes to look at Thomas again. Teresa was using her handkerchief and pressing it carefully onto the injure, the blood soaking it with a bright red color. It was a deep cut.

Teresa said, voice tiny and apologetical, "Sorry for dragging you here, Thomas. I didn't know they were here too."

"It's okay. It's just like a kitten scratch, a huge kitten in this case, it'll heal faster than you could imagine," said Thomas, his eyes fixed her face and giving her a small smile.

"We should find a bathroom to clean your cut," Teresa suggested, which earned a nod from Thomas.

And then two of them were gone as well. Thomas even hadn't shot Newt a glance, as if he hadn't just stood right there, before he was leaded by Teresa, still hand in hand, in the bathroom's direction.

Newt just stayed there and didn't really know what to think and what to feel. Thomas didn't deserve any of it, the reprimand that Newt had thrown at him at school, the taunt his mother had just thrown at him, and that hurtful and offensive slap. Newt didn't know why but he felt the pain of that slap running in every nerve of his body even though he wasn't the one who received it.

And now Newt felt like being abandoned, by both of his family and his friends.

Swallowing down on the bitter lump stuck in his throat, Newt made his way up to the path surrounding the lake. At least when he was being left alone, Newt preferred no noises from the guests pushing him over the edge, he was almost there right now.

Staying away from the crowd on the other side of the lake, the behind garden here was quiet and secluded. There was only some flutter sounds of almost leafless trees and the rustle sound from the dry leaves under his feet with every step Newt made.

Newt found himself wandering in no direction, just letting his legs choose the path themselves until he heard a rumbling of sound, more louder than those sounds of the leaves, and out of nowhere, a hand grabbed his upper arm and yanked him towards the bush he had been walking near.

"Ahhh," Newt yelled shamelessly at the sudden contact as he was kicking helter-skelter with the fear that he was being kidnapped.

"Hey, hey, it's me, Thomas." The owner of the hand said, grabbing his other upper arm to hold him still in place. His grips were firm around Newt's arms.

"Tommy?" Newt asked dumbly and stopped struggling.

When Newt stayed put totally, Thomas let go of him. It was very dark here, darker behind the huge and high bush, so Newt barely made out Thomas' face.

"Yeah, your Tommy." Newt heard Thomas chuckle, joyfully, at the nickname. "I was just wandering off, you know, staying away from those who really don't like my charm, and somehow got lost here," Thomas said, sounding ridiculous to himself more than anyone else. Newt didn't know why but he just had a feeling that if anything, Thomas was _not_ a person of easily getting lost. Getting lost was not Thomas' forte.

Newt opened his mouth, and closed it, then opened it again. Luckily, Thomas couldn't see him in this state due to the lightless surroundings or he would have seen how much of a golden fish Newt was looking like with his mouth. Finally, Newt managed to push the words out, "I'm so sorry that my mother slapped you," he mumbled and wondered if Thomas could hear him.

The silence stretched out over them. There were only the sounds of the natural surroundings and their breathes. And Newt irritatedly couldn't read Thomas' expression.

Eventually, Thomas said, out of the topic, "I think we should go to somewhere brighter. I can't see your pretty face here and the dark just tempts me to do something really bad to you." His voice was half joking, half taut like he was trying to grip a hold on himself.

"Bad? You mean hit me?" Newt asked automatically, then added awkwardly, "If it's the case, just hit me if it makes you feel better."

Thomas cleared his voice, then his silhouette leaned towards Newt, his breath ghosting on Newt's cheek. "I mean the contrary," Thomas whispered seductively and Newt found himself flushing all over. It was suddenly hot here, perhaps it was because of the suit he was wearing.

Newt stuttered some nonsense words before Thomas grabbed his wrist and led him out of the bush and towards the lake. When they reached the railing surrounding the lake, Thomas loosened his hold on Newt's hand and leaned his side casually against the handrail, looking straight at Newt.

"Where's Teresa?" Newt asked since the thought struck him.

"She's dancing with her cousin, the bride I mean, over there," Thomas snorted.

"I thought you two were a couple?" Newt couldn't help but ask and felt extremely weird like he was jealous and inquiring.

"Nah. I mean I like Teresa, she's my best friend, and she just needed someone escort her here. But I'm not into girls," Thomas said somewhat uncomfortably with a frown between his eyebrows.

"Oh," Newt mumbled. "So you're into boys?"

Thomas looked at him with his eyebrows furrowing even deeper and blinked like it was a dumb thing to be asked. So Teresa wasn't Thomas' girlfriend, and Thomas even liked boys. Newt should have known it before by the way Thomas got curious about his orientation. Newt had no idea why he suddenly felt a burst of relief in his chest, and something like cheerfulness.

"Oh," Newt mumbled, again, awkwardly, and then raised his voice a little louder. "I thought you said you got lost," Newt wondered and felt a bit of suspiciousness.

"I lied," said Thomas, voice even more casual than his posture, "I followed you here."

"Followed me here? Why?" Newt heard himself asking, surprised.

"Isn't it clear?" Thomas asked back, some of his feathers moving as the winds started blowing again. His wings had the same coloring with the water of the lake, dark and shimmering with moonlight.

"I thought you wouldn't want to see me, like, ever again, after my mother—" Newt said haltingly, turned his body towards the lake, lying both of his forearms on the handrail, and avoided Thomas' eyes.

A moment later, Newt's shoulder was collided with Thomas' one, the dark haired boy had moved closer to him and was now standing right next to him and looking at the other side of the lake where lanterns were like fireflies on the air. When their wings touched, Newt felt his wings freezing immediately.

At that Thomas flinched a little, he turned and looked at Newt's wings and then inched a step away, giving Newt some distance.

"It's a normal reaction from parents," said Thomas, his gaze on the lake surface again.

"Truth be told, the way they view the world, I feel tired of it." Newt sighed wearily, not sure if he should have talked like that about his family. But it was what he really felt. Things like today had happened before. Gally had got himself into several fights before. But his mother had never acted this aggressive and brutal, it was like because Thomas was a Darkor. Newt had been educated and grown up in the hatred of his family towards Darkors. A high esteemed family always had its rules and these rules felt like many stabs into Newt's heart. It was like his way of thinking and behaving didn't belong to his family, it was like he was out of the place like his sport shoes right now.

Without much thought, he put the ring out of his finger, the ring sliding out easily, and drop it into the water. The ring sank down and down, reflexing the moonlight and glimmering until it hit the ground of the lake. It was a shallow lake so Newt could still make out the small figure of it but the dark blurred the vision a moment later.

"What have you just done?" Thomas asked dazedly. His face showed his pure shock at Newt's act.

Newt turned to look at Thomas and stepped a pace closer to him, smiling sadly against his will. "It's my family ring and I don't fit it. Sometimes I just want to let it all go."

"Newt—" Thomas called him, but Newt cut him off.

"Sh—," Newt shushed him with his fingers pressing his lips, like Thomas had done at their first bio meeting. Thomas' eyes widened in surprise at the touch, and he blinked as if to make sure it was not his own illusion. "Don't talk. I'm not in the mood of hearing lecture now, Tommy."

Thomas nodded with a defeated sigh, and Newt let his hand travel to Thomas' cheek where the cut had stopped bleeding. His fingers traced lightly the edge of the cut, wincing when he saw Thomas wincing, feeling the sharp edge of it cut into his heart.

"You should go home and take care of it. Minho's mother has a first aid kid behind the mirror in the bathroom on the first floor," Newt said, and the buzzing sound from his pocket startled him.

Newt dropped his hand off Thomas' cheek, much to his dislike, and dug into his pocket to pull out his phone and read the message.

"I—I should go, Gally said my parents wanted to have words to me," said Newt, feeling more like crap at this point when he had to leave Thomas all alone here.

If Thomas was upset, he didn't show it. Newt barely put his phone back into his pocket when Thomas reached out to take his phone out of Newt's hand, gently. And he typed something on it.

When he gave Newt his phone back, he said, smiling a little, "Yeah, I just sent myself a message. So here my number, text me if you have time."

Newt took the phone, nodding. And he turned and made his way back to the crowd. Newt wanted to turn back to Thomas, but something in his head told him that if he looked back now, he wouldn't be able to walk away.

~~~~~~~~~

It was 2 o'clock at night and Newt hardly brought himself to slumber. His parents had, indeed, had many words to him. About they didn't want him to make friends with any of those Darkors in his high school or even outside the high school gate. His mother had kept gesturing to Gally's nose and said those Darkors would do harm to him at any moment they wanted to hurt him. Newt had yearned to point out that Gally was the one who had started the fight and his mother was the one who had hurt Thomas physically and emotionally. But Newt had just zipped his mouth shut like every time they gave him lectures before. Newt hated himself for being weak.

The buzzing sound and the flashing light on the screen of Newt's phone pulled him out of his thoughts. He groped it from the bedside table and read the message.

It was from Thomas' number which he had named TM, it read **'Open the door to your balcony'**.

Newt stared at it for a long moment, confused, then when he turned his body to the other side and squinted his eyes at the door to the balcony of his room, there was a shape of a human behind the thin curtains.

Newt literally jumped out of his bed and ran toward the door, being beyond grateful that the floor was covered with a thick and fluffy mat, otherwise his excited steps would have been heard through the house.

When he yanked the door open, the curtains swayed fiercely as the winds poured into his room. Newt shivered at the chilliness. The outside was dark with clouds disappearing the moon, and the only source of light was from the streetlamp. 

And Thomas was there, still on his black tuxedo but it looked—it looked damp. Newt eyes widened and he quickly reached up to switch on the light. Thomas was soaked, from head to shoes. The blue shirt he wore inside the coat and the black trousers were sticking to his skin, his tie was nowhere to be found. The edge and the sleeves of his coat were dropping water continuously as well as the tips of his wings. Those wings, those fantastic and amazing wings, now looked tattered, dangling droopingly behind his back.

"Tomm—? What happened?" Newt asked, panicking. He could hear himself shouting in the low tone of a whispering.

Thomas looked at him, the edges of his eyes a little red like he had just drowned in water for so long, and forced a dry and crooked smile. He reached out and took hold of Newt's wrist. Newt jumped at his damp cold skin as turned Newt's palm up. Newt looked at his face which had a gentle smile on, more bewildered than ever in his life.

And Thomas lifted up his other hand—which was now clenched into a fist like he was holding something—and lay it on Newt's palm. When he opened his fist, Newt's family ring touched his skin. Thomas closed Newt's hand around the ring with his hand as Newt felt puzzled, stuttering something under his breath.

"There is something you couldn't let go, Newt," Thomas finally said, his voice quiet and soft, "It's not you who does not fit the ring, it's the ring that doesn't fit you. If the ring doesn't fit your finger, don't wear it there. But don't throw it away, either. Keep it elsewhere, it's still a part of you even when you don't want it. Your family as well. You can't abandon it. But I believe that you can make it better, make it fit you."

With that, Thomas hopped up, about to fly.

"Wa—wait," Newt stopped him with his hand clutching at Thomas' soaked sleeve. Thomas lowered his feet back on the ground of the balcony, tilting his head to one side as if asking _'What are you wanting to say?'_.

"Just wait here," Newt said and strode to the bedside table. He came back to Thomas, who in his drenched clothes was starting to tremble in the cold and windy night, and grasped his hand. He brought it higher and put the rose he had picked earlier onto Thomas' palm. It had the almost same colors with Thomas' wings, sapphire blue from the bottom and fading into cobalt blue at the top of each pedal. Thomas looked at the rose and looked up at Newt, searching his face.

"Is that the flower you tugged at your pocket earlier?" Thomas asked, amusement in his voice as he held the rose closer to his eyes and stared closely at it.

"Yeah," Newt said, scratching his head shyly. "It has the colors of your wings, so I—"

"So you decided to pick it off the flower gate at the wedding? I'm so flattered," Thomas, again, finished his sentence. Newt managed a curt nod, embarrassed. And before he could ask why Thomas knew, Thomas added, "Teresa and I were walking to the garden on the sidewalk as we saw you fling your long legs out of the car door. Your shoes were unmistakable."

Newt laughed quietly at that, "Yeah, I know, I was in a hurry so I just managed to put on my suit."

With a swift movement, Thomas was standing just an inch away from Newt. He reached up his free hand and slid it through Newt's hair until it was holding his nape. Newt's body immediately reacted, shivering at the sensation of Thomas' cold palm against his skin. Thomas pushed Newt's head closer to him, Newt's chin touching his shoulder, damp fabric under his nose and Thomas smelled of lake water. The hand holding the rose was between them, as though it was the only thing that stopped their bodies crashing together, Newt could feel Thomas' knuckles pressing lightly against his chest through the thin fabric of his pajama shirt. It was surreal like that, Newt was about an inch taller than Thomas, but it was like he was always smaller as they got closer. The distance between their body was so tiny it was almost a hug. Newt felt his breath quickening at the proximity.

Thomas whispered into his ear—his breath warm in contrast to his skin—like he had done when they were behind the bush, but this time his voice was more intimate, and it sent goosebumps all over Newt's skin. "You looked like an angel in that suit. And I was just so lucky being there to see it so please don't say sorry for anything unfortunate that had happened."

Newt flushed and choked out the words, "I—but the slap, you didn't deserve it and I—"

"Newt, you should learn how to take compliments," snorted Thomas, "you are ruining the romantic moment here."

"Roman—? What—? You mean—"

"Is there some way to make you stop talking right now?" Thomas asked, and gave Newt a light tug at his hair to tilt his head up.

Even though Newt was not a huge fan of romantic genre, he knew that sort of action when one character tugging at the other's hair. Newt shut his mouth up immediately, flabbergasted. Thomas eyes were very dark, looking at him intensely. He knew he shouldn't be feeling like this, this unnamed feeling inside him, yet it was true that he was expecting Thomas would kiss him. Newt instinctively closed his eyes, ready for any source of intimate action. He felt Thomas breath came closer, fanning over his lips. But then the grip on his head was gone, and Newt snapped his eyes open at the lost. Thomas parted his lips, as if to say something, but he didn't and instead began to spread his wings. Newt just stood there, puzzled, and watched Thomas fly away, some of the water drops falling like rain when he flapped his wings.

Thomas disappeared into the dark sky.

~~~~~~~~~

"Did you sleep talking last night? I heard voices," Gally asked as he barged in Newt's room the next morning.

Newt had just finished drying the floor of the balcony and he had had a good sleep last night.

"Uh, yeah, I think so," Newt said, avoiding Gally's gaze.

Luckily, Gally just dropped it as he came back to his own room to prepare for a new school day.

Newt found himself staring at the ivory suit hanging on the back of the chair, waiting for the family servant to come and bring to the laundry.

And Newt found himself grinning toothily like an idiot.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really don't know what to do before update this chapter except blushing.  
> And I wanna say thanks to you guys for your encouragement to this story!!! <3
> 
> ~~~  
> Enjoy!!!

It was another Monday meeting, and Minho had subtly left Newt and Thomas alone at home, _again_. Minho had even offered his mother to drag him to the shopping mall with her. She had been surprised—raised suspicious even—but she consented anyways since Minho could help her carry shopping bags.

Newt had shrugged off his huge coat to reveal a green sweater—which Thomas wondered why Lightors always wore too warm while Darkors only needed a thin sweater, or even Henley like Thomas was wearing right now in this late winter—and flopped down on Thomas' bed, this time more comfortably, and raised his yellow brows at Thomas as he caught a sight of the rose the other night. The rose was preserved in a glass globe, the pedestal under the globe was carved with two letter _N_ and _T_.

"What N and T stand for? Newt? Or Newt and Thomas?" Newt had asked and flushed a little.

"How many bones are there in one wing?" Thomas brazenly changed the subject. Newt had rolled his eyes, but answered Thomas' question and put the globe back on to bedside table anyways.

Newt had learned by heart all the bone names and he was now sitting in front of Thomas, his gaze occasionally flickering at the faded white scar on Thomas' cheek where his mother had slapped him.

"Are you done feeling guilty about the scar?" Thomas asked, waving his hand in front of Newt's dull face.

"Huh?" Newt asked back, unfocused, then added as Thomas raised his brows, "Oh, sorry. I've got carried away sometimes."

"Not just sometimes," Thomas remarked, "and stop saying sorry for something which was not your fault."

"I . . . Alright," Newt said, uncertain, "So I think we should continue our study?"

"Okay. Now touch them and learn positions of their bones." Thomas nodded at Newt, who was sitting with legs crossing under him.

Since they had learned by heart the skeleton structure, now they had to touch and point out which was which. There was no need to do this kind of thing but Thomas teacher, the one whose name he still didn't remember even after a month attending her class, had insisted on her students to do this. She said they had to have a tight grasp of the structure of wing bones to maximize their flying ability. Despite Thomas' dislike to her glaring at him, he liked the idea.

"Really?" Newt asked for confirmation, and Thomas nodded again. "It's just . . . so weird. Our Lightors would never offer our wings willingly to any one else except when it came to feelings, and uh—" Newt hesitated, then scratched the back of his neck where the flush began to creep up on his fair skin. His head bowed a little, making some strands of his yellow hair fall down over his forehead. Newt looked like a shy angel who had just descended to the World and didn't really know what to do with the lack of knowledge in human activities.

"Sex?" Thomas finished his sentence, speaking it out loud like it was just a normal thing to say, which was true for him, but clearly not for Newt.

The golden boy's eyes went wide as he jerked his head up at the word. Then after a long moment of more shyness, he nodded. Being not brave enough to tell Newt that he adored his blush made Thomas feel like being constipated. Thomas didn't mean it this rudely and disgustingly, but the word was just so damn true in his case.

Thomas smiled at Newt, said, "I told you, that's the reason why our bio teacher, whose name I still don't remember by the way—"

"Ms. Chancellor," Newt reminded with a roll of his eyes.

"Yeah, whatever. I mean, she partnered us up into a pair of same sex students had its own purpose. So that each student could feel comfortable when their wings were touched by a same sex peer. You get it now?" Thomas asked encouragingly.

Newt just stayed silent, biting his lower lip and fidgeting. Thomas reached out and closed his hands around Newt's wrists and pulled them closer to him.

"It's okay. Our Darkors' wings are just like normal bird wings. Nothing's that sacred like yours. Don't be bothered. No sexual feeling encounter. No sensitive wings," Thomas reassured, his voice soft.

Thomas had, by now, known how much of a big deal touching wings was to Lightors. Minho had told him before. Thomas had done some research himself as well. And he had also learned how protective Newt was to his own wings. So even if Newt had no feelings for him, or boys in general, he still had some difficulties about this whole learning wing's anatomy stuff. Thomas offered his wings because to him they were just like other parts of his body, all important equally, nothing less and nothing more. If his other parts could be touched, so could his wings.

"Okay," Newt finally pushed the word out, and braced himself. Thomas' hands guided Newt's over his shoulders, closer to his already spreading wings.

And Newt touched them. His fingers pressed lightly on his wings' blade bones.

Thomas couldn't help but startle at the contact. His wings fluttered, some cool winds filling up the room.

"What? Did I hurt you?" Newt asked, startled as well. His eyes were full of concern and fear, and he immediately pulled his hands back, pressing them hard on the cross between his calfs like he had just done something terribly wrong.

"No, it's just," Thomas said, "Your fingers are tickling, I couldn't help the reaction."

Newt smirked at him this time, his face full of relief. "Ah, so your wings are responsive, huh?" He asked jokily.

"Every part of my body can be beyond responsive to that sort of fingertips," Thomas said back playfully. And Newt gave him a shy but mischievous look, then he wasted no time to lean in and reach out his hands again. This time Newt brushed his hands all over Thomas' wings then poked them punctually.

"Stop—" Thomas breathed out a laughter, his body writhing pathetically. "Stop, haha—"

Newt kept ran his fingers through every feathers of Thomas' wings that he could reach.

"I yield, I yield . . ." Thomas laughed harder. He could feel his tears escaping his eyes because of laughing.

"Oh no, not yet."

Newt didn't stop even for a moment, laughing joyfully as well. Through the blur vision, Thomas could see Newt's radiant smile come closer and closer to him. And it occurred to Thomas that his butt were on the edge of the bed since Newt kept leaning in to poke him and Thomas had reflexly inched himself away from the source of tickling.

When he was about to fall out of the bed, Thomas automatically grabbed at Newt's hips and leaned forwards, stopping himself falling out of the bed. And accidentally and probably he had used too much force. All Newt's weight fell backwards and onto the bed, Thomas stumbled onto him. And Thomas was now, on top of Newt. Body pressed against body.

Newt's hands had left Thomas' wings on the progress of falling and were now on either side of his head. His eyes were wider than impossible with all shock expression.

And under his hands, still around Newt's hips, Thomas felt Newt's feathers against his skin. They all went stiff and frozen against his skin. It was like touching ice. Not because of the cold, but the resistance to anything that wanted to break and penetrate in. Thomas know it would be like this, Minho had told him about this kind of reaction.

Like a God hearing a pray, Minho's voice said, with a faint click of the door open.

Both of them craned their heads instantly towards the door, startled. Minho peeked his head in, smiling with tiny eyes.

"Mom forgot her purse and she wanna know if you two nee—" Minho said, and immediately snapped his mouth shut when his eyed set on his friends. On the bed. One top and one bottom, or that was how the expression in Minho's face showed.

Thomas found himself—and perhaps Newt as well—at the loss of word.

" _Oh_ ," Minho spoke again. He looked like he had just successfully taken in what was happening here.

"It's not what it seems it is," Thomas said first, finding Newt's body went totally stiff under him. "We're just tickling each other. Right, Newt?"

He looked at Newt, asking for cooperation. Newt glanced back at him, blinked before he stammered, "Yeah, I tickled Thomas and he was about to fall out of the bed then he—he—"

Minho stared at them inquiringly before he stop Newt's rambling with a shrug. "Well," he said, "I didn't say anything. I think I should let you two some privacy to _tickle each other_." He purposely emphasized his last words before leaving the room. Minho even pressed the lock from the inside before he slammed the door shut.

"Mom, they said they just need each other." Thomas heard Minho scream from the downstairs. He looked back at Newt and he seemed frightened as though they had just been caught in the middle of a making-out section.

Thomas barely pushed himself up and off of Newt when something changed. And the change stopped him from any further action.

Newt's feathers, in the next second, went soft. So soft to the extent that Thomas had thought his hands were touching incorporeality.

Thomas was not the only person who was shocked at this reaction though. Newt blinked his eyes and parted his lips like he himself did not know what was happening with his own body. As though his own body was betraying his mind.

 _'Wings are soft when there are feelings encountering.'_ Thomas had read it in many articles, and it was happening right now. Under Thomas's touch.

Thomas didn't know what to make of it. Perhaps Newt had feelings for Thomas. And look at him, all pupils dilating, cheeks flushing and lips parting. Thomas just wanted to lean down and kiss him so bad. Newt was slender but still built with light muscles, the solid of his body and the softness of his wings under Thomas was a wonderful combination.

But Thomas held himself back. He thought back their moment on the balcony where Newt had had his eyes pressed close tightly, like he had been preparing himself for a painful course of action. It had stopped Thomas's lips a hair's breadth from Newt's. This time as well, he would not take advantage of this situation. Maybe Newt's body yearned for him, but his mind might not want this. It felt like Newt's body just reacted instinctively at the new contact of body against body which Thomas wagered he had never had with anyone. Newt seemed to struggle with himself and Thomas did not want to see him in the battle of his own lust and fear. If Thomas took anything from Newt, he would do it with the willingness of both of Newt's body and Newt's mind.

"Sorry, I—" Thomas spoke, voice hoarse to his own ears.

Thomas was about to let go of Newt's hips as he saw out of the corner of his eyes arms reaching up. In a next moment, palms on his cheeks, Newt was cupping his face to hold him back.

And kissing him.

On the mouth.

Surprised, Thomas lost balance at that point and stumbled downwards onto Newt's body again. Chest against chest, legs tangling. Thomas' palms were laying flat on Newt's wings but they had gone stiff again, as though Newt had found some last control of his body and put it into the state of his disobedient wings.

The kiss was more of a perk, just lips touching lips, very lightly. Newt pulled out immediately as Thomas' weight, once again, fully descended upon his body.

With Newt's hands still framing his face, Thomas jerked his head up a little, just to check Newt's reaction, to see if there was any mischievous glint in his dark brown eyes that he was just messing with Thomas' emotions. Newt's eyes were fixed on him intently, as if to check back Thomas' reaction. Thomas could see his own sincereness in Newt's expression. And his gaze was honest, Thomas knew his own was the same.

Slowly, very slowly, Newt slid his hands around to hold the back of Thomas' neck and the grip went tight —it was a pleasure to feel the pressure of it, like he was afraid if he didn't cling to him, Thomas would disappeared into thin air.

"I know this is stupid to say," said Newt, his voice quiet. "But I had thought you would kiss me on the balcony that night."

Thomas blinked, surprised. And then he shook his head. Clearly Newt took the shake of his head as a denial of Thomas' intention on kissing him that day and he looked alarmed instantly. His palms were sweating on Thomas' neck with anxiety. It was interesting to find how easily Newt's body react to anything alongside his emotions.

"It's not a stupid thing," said Thomas. And the relief was visible in Newt. "It's true that I had that plan."

"But you just. . .flew away. And I haven't been able to stop thinking about it," Newt said helplessly, which made Thomas feel like an asshole but the confession twisted his lips up into a fond smile.

"So you've just kissed me to see how it would feel like?" Thomas asked, refraining his smile turning into his typical idiotic grin. He really didn't know if he should laugh or cry over the fact that Newt had hoped him to kiss him that night but Thomas hadn't granted his wish.

"Well," said Newt with his uncharacteristically confident voice "I'd like to feel a little bit more." Then after the words came out, he murmured tinily again, "Is it okay?"

Thomas barely finished his nod before Newt used his hold on Thomas' neck to pull him down and leaned up halfway to bring their lips together.

Just a series of small close-mouthed kisses could make his heart flutter in his chest which was moving up and down with the rise and fall of the boy's chest beneath him. Newt lips was a beautifully small-shaped and went pliant when they met his. There was a distinctive difference between kissing Newt and kissing other guys. If Thomas were being honest to himself, Thomas would say he had loved hot and wet kisses before. But the way Newt kissed him had its own unique characteristics. It was slow, gentle, soft and shy.

And there was an uncertain air in the kiss, in which Thomas had considered pausing for a moment just to make sure Newt didn't regret his decision. But when he forced himself prise their lips apart, Newt immediately changed from holding his nape by hands into wounding his arms around his neck and pulled him down, again, with a desperate grunt. Thomas looked at him and saw Newt's eyes still shut closed and a light frown between his brows. 

And only then Thomas noticed that the conflict in Newt's head was still ongoing and displayed by his wings when he was kissing Thomas. Then it crossed Thomas' mind that this whole thing was too risky to Newt. Thomas suddenly realized, with a tingling pain in his chest, that Newt must have just learnt his real orientation and he must be in the progress of accepting it. And kissing Thomas could be a great terrible trouble for him if it were leaked outside this room. Thomas could feel the pressure of how much Newt trusted him not to reveal this on his chest.

Newt's wings altered repeatedly from icy frost to warm softness every second passing by. And the sensation of changes was so lancinating that Thomas had to moved his hands upwards to avoid Newt's wings. Newt might be okay with kissing him but clearly not ready to let Thomas touch his wings. He put his arms on either side of Newt's head, his hands twining their way through the boy's blonde hair. And it was cloudily soft, just like it had been when Thomas had ran his fingers through it on the balcony the night after the wedding, just not as much as his wings, but still one of the most fluffy things Thomas ever touched.

One more apparent thing was that it was Newt's first ever kiss. The blonde clearly had no idea what to do next except brushing their lips together. When Thomas boldly parted Newt's lips with his, the movement between them was abruptly halted. Perhaps Newt wasn't ready for this yet. They just went very still in that moment. Lips on lips, parting slightly, but breathing heavily. In this pause, Newt seemed to decide whether to pull away or giving of himself. Newt was still fighting his battle. The moment lengthened in a painfully slow way until Newt licked his way into Thomas' mouth. Their tongues touched, tentatively. But Newt seemed emboldened by the surprised moan emitting from Thomas' throat. Newt had a taste of mint like he had brushed his teeth before coming here, like he had prepared himself for a kiss. Thomas felt a burst of fondness in his chest, and he knew their tongues weren't being used to form words, but everything unsaid was being told. Newt was not going back.

Thomas pulled out in favor of peppering Newt's jaw with small kisses and when his lips were a fraction away from Newt's earlobe, Thomas couldn't help but giggle because what was happening right now was not one of his ludicrous images. Newt seemed ticklish at his breath of laughter against his ear that he chuckled too, and threw his head back a little. His milky long throat was exposed and Thomas couldn't keep his body in check and made his way down to kiss Newt's Adam apple.

Right after that kiss Thomas felt Newt's lower body getting hard under him and Newt just went totally numb like he didn't know what was happening with his body's reaction to kisses. Thomas left Newt's neck and looked at him. Newt's eyes had opened and were very dark and glassy, his lips red and parting as he was breathing heavily at the change inside his body.

Thomas hastily sat up, fearing that he had just crossed the border, and kneeled between Newt's spreading legs. The end of his black wings covered Newt's sock-cladded feet. His hands had left Newt's hair and were now resting on his own thighs. He felt uneasy.

Newt pushed himself up onto his elbows and looked at Thomas, raising his yellow eyebrows confusedly.

"Something's wrong?" Newt asked, voice a little thick.

Thomas dropped his gaze down on Newt's bucked crotch, and Newt blushed a deep red color. There was a great chance that it was the first time he got turned on in front of somebody.

"I—" Newt said sheepishly as the moment became more and more awkward for both of them. "It's just—" he continued but cut himself off abruptly.

Thomas cleared his voice. "I can help it if you let me," Thomas heard himself say, felt a drop of sweat falling from his temple and waited for Newt's response.

Newt blinked, then pushed himself up further until he was sitting face to face with Thomas, his thighs alongside Thomas' calves. He didn't answer Thomas' offer but ducked his head to look from his erection to Thomas' hands in an odd way. After a long silence stretching out between them, Newt took hold of Thomas' hands from his thighs and brought them towards his waistband. Thomas' palms rested on it, his fingertips feeling the tense muscles of Newt's abdomen even through the thick fabric of Newt's sweater.

Newt looked up at him then, took a deep breath and made a curt nod of his head.

Thomas leaned forward and caught his mouth again as he lifted the hem of his sweater up, Newt skin burning wherever Thomas' fingertips brushed across. Thomas managed to work the button and zipper of Newt's jeans without looking down. The tension inside both of them rose by every second passing.

The first touch of his fingers on the place of Newt's pleasure drew a sharp gasp out of his lips as they immediately left Thomas' mouth. Before Thomas could shot a look at his face to see his reaction, Newt had already flung his arms up and braced himself with his palms on Thomas' shoulders, then let his head drop into the crook between Thomas' neck and shoulder. His blonde hair brushed Thomas' neck and cheek, and Thomas turned his head to place a soft kiss onto his forehead. Newt's hot and quickening breathes fanned his collarbone.

His golden wings fluttered. Thomas wondered whether they were freezing or went soft at this point. He wanted to touch, but he couldn't. Thomas forced himself to focus on giving Newt pleasure and gently closed his palm around the hardness, and it twitched in his hand. He enjoyed the weight of it, and the well-proportioned of it to Newt's whole body.

"Move you bloody hand, Tommy," he heard Newt curse under his breath and only then Thomas realized how much time he had spent on admiring Newt's nakedness.

Thomas chuckled at the impatience and found his own eagerness rising. He placed his free hand on New's hip and the bare smooth skin hot against his palm. Then he started stroking down his fist around Newt and the blonde's breath hitched up. Thomas jacked him off slowly and carefully, with the fear that with only a small mistake, he would hurt the boy. His knuckles brushed the faint line of hair on Newt's lower stomach as his hand moved up an down. Newt's breath became moment by moment ragged with every rise and fall of Thomas' fist around him. His hands clutched tightly at his shoulders when Thomas slid his thumb over the tip of his length. Every surprising touch was responded, enthusiastically, with a mewl falling out of Newt's lips. Thomas could feel the pressure coiling up Newt's stomach as it did to himself.

By the time the movement became a rhythm and both of their's breath became short pants, Thomas breathed out the words.

"Newt, look at me."

The hold Newt had on him was tightened. Thomas felt Newt's lips pressed on the crook of his neck but it was not a kiss, it was like Newt was trying to bite back his groan. As though he felt vulnerable letting anyone see his face when his body strived for its orgasm.

"Newt," Thomas said. His stroke became tighter and faster. "I want to see your face."

With a shuddering breath, Newt lifted his face from Thomas' neck and looked at him then. He was flushing all over with parting red glossy lips and rosy cheeks. Their eyes met, and Thomas felt himself stop moving. It felt like something pulled a trigger inside Newt that he shook apart even without any more stroke from Thomas. Newt's first wet hot stripe spurted over Thomas' hand and his own abdomen as Thomas' nickname escaped his lips, breathlessly, and it sounded like _Tummy_.

It was pure bliss.

With his hands trembling from climax, Newt grabbed at Thomas' collar and pulled him in for a deep kiss before he pulled away and gazed at Thomas with misty eyes.

"Did it feel good?" Thomas asked, anticipating. "This is the first time I've touched anyone else beside myself, I don't know if my skills applied you with the same quality," Thomas added with a snort of laughter when Newt just stayed silent.

The silence stretched out over them for a long moment before Newt responded.

"This is my first time, Tommy," Newt breathed, smiling and blushing. His thumbs rubbing in small circles on Thomas' shoulders.

Thomas couldn't hold his grin and leaned in to give him a perk on Newt's cheek, whispering into his ear, "It's the first time someone've touched you too?"

Newt flushed at that and averted his gaze to the floor, already fidgeting.

Newt said, "It's the first time I've been touched," and he began stammering, "I mean, I—uh—I've never been touched—uh—even by myself before."

Thomas found his eyebrows shot up. Okay, the thing was that Thomas had thought this whole thing was new to Newt, technically it was true, but the fact that he'd just heard proved that it was even newer to the blonde.

"Frigid princess?" Thomas asked.

Newt's gaze was on him now, not his face but fixed down on his hand. Newt reached down to grab Thomas' hand and began playing with his fingers. And when he realized that that was the hand his seed was still sticking on and in drying process, Newt blinked and blushed, again. Then he snorted, schooling his expression.

"Well, at least it can still get up. It's just," Newt murmured. "It's just there wasn't much hot and wet fantasy I'd imagined before."

Thomas scrutinized him, then said, "What are you doing at home, when you're alone?"

Newt said, "I study," quite frankly.

"When you're taking shower?"

"I bathe," with the same flat tone.

"When you're—?"

"Tommy," Newt cut him off and looked Thomas straight in the eyes. "I just found it hard to have feelings for anyone. My parents. . . they introduced a lot of people to me but it just kinda benefited them from business acquaintances. I had given many shots, had gotten to know these girls, but they just cared about my family fortune than myself. It's really difficult to find someone approaching me without a thousand motives."

Thomas just stared at Newt. This Newt, who had opened up to him and more or less lowered his fences of insecurity, was fixing his gaze on nowhere but Thomas. His eyes were sad but it was the kind of sadness that the owner wanted to shared and wanted someone to sooth it. Newt's gaze was reaching to the core of Thomas to pull his soul out.

"I have only one," Thomas said and immediately found Newt's body tense against him. Newt's eyes were full of shock like he had just being used, his hands dropped Thomas' one and withdrew shortly.

" _Getting to know you_ ," Thomas finished and took hold of Newt's hand again.

Newt's expression softened with a mark of a small smile on his pinky lips, and Thomas heard his exhalation like Newt had held his breath when he had thought Thomas had been toying his feelings. Newt giggled when Thomas kissed his nose.

"Is it alright?" Thomas asked.

Newt snorted out a laughter at his question like it was just unnecessary. "Never this alright before. What about you?" Newt asked, watching Thomas closely.

Thomas forced himself get out of the bed then made his way to grab some tissues. When he came back, he found Newt already laying on his back with exhausted yet satisfied expression, and took his place sitting next to Newt carefully as not to sit on his wings which were spreading wearily all over the upper part of the mattress. The tips of them almost touched the floor. Thomas cleaned the mess on Newt's stomach and redid his zipper and button as the boy lay still and enjoyed the service, smiling happily.

"I'm going to get a cold shower. Like, really cold," Thomas replied, chuckling.

"Yeah," Newt just breathed out curtly, clearly still not gaining back his strength after the climax, or perhaps it was that stripping a layer off his heart to confide in Thomas made Newt feel bare. Thomas could feel Newt's gaze on him all the way he moved towards the door. When he was about to close it behind him, he heard a faint voice of Newt say _Come back soon_.

When Thomas got out of the bathroom after a coldest and quickest shower and came back into his room, Newt was sitting on the bed and eyeing the bio book. When he looked up from it, there was a frown on his face.

"What? Something wrong?" Thomas asked nervously.

"What kind of studying biologic we were doing? We were supposed to learn how wings work," Newt said, still frowning and it was just so cute on his face.

"We learned how dicks work. Useful as well," Thomas shrugged nonchalantly as he came up to Newt and sat in front of him.

Newt's frown faded, and he laughed at that, "You little smartass. And you know, Tommy?"

"Huh?"

"You're not a horrible kisser," Newt commented honestly.

"No, I am not. But you are," Thomas said and immediately received a glance from Newt.

After a pause, Newt said, "I'm new to all of these things," and when Thomas nodded, he added, quietly and apologetically, "I'm sorry I have to hide this from everyone."

Thomas felt like being punched in the stomach, but he smiled at Newt anyways, "Alright. We'll find a way around and deal with it, as long as you feel comfortable."

Newt put the book down next to him and he reached up to cup Thomas' cheek with the same manner like the first time Thomas kissed him on the corner of his mouth to get the cream off, and kissed him, softly but lovingly. He murmured against Thomas' mouth, every word forming by Newt's lips against Thomas' lips like a promise carved carefully there, "I'll find a way out, Tommy, not just around."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've written smut scene before but this is the first time the scene is that explicit. So if it is weird, please bear me *blushing red like a tomato*


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The thing is that I'm currently feeling quite stuck (and slightly depressed). Not that I'm facing a writer's block (or I am?). I knew what was supposed to happen next but somehow I couldn't put them into words in the flowing way. Idk why, it's like suddenly everything (word use, phrases, characters' thoughts and feelings,...and inspiration) just disappeared in my head. So honestly I'm not quite satisfied with this chapter. I was struggling with it because even after editing it several times, I still found it not getting any better *sigh* :(:( I really hope you guys still enjoy this chapter more or less. It is the longest chapter and I hope it worth my effort and your time reading!

_Three months._

It had been three months since he kissed Thomas. It had been three months this relationship being kept a secret.

If being asked what it felt like dating a guy without holding his hand when you two went to movies, not being allowed to go out on Valentine's Day because you had to attend a feast at your parents' friend's house, or asking him to the dance when the end of the semester was coming, Newt would say that it was fucked up.

Not the relationship was fucked up. It was Newt's head was fucked up, his heart was fucked up.

Thomas, as usual, was a very patient person. The way he decided to walk with Newt back home in stead of flying, the way he lingered at the field waiting for Newt finishing his practice, the way he leaned in, very slowly, every time he wanted to kiss Newt just to make sure that Newt greeted it. And the way he just repressed his disappointment into a faked smile every time Newt took a step away from him when they were being caught walking side by side —without any skin contact— in the hallway at school or on their way home. Newt felt awful even when Thomas said _'It's alright'_. Thomas' kindness made him feel more awful.

Gally, of course, had been reported by one of his disciples that Thomas was living with Minho's family. And Newt had been grounded and banned from coming over Minho's by his brother. Newt still came over anyways, for their bio project which needed to be done in two weeks from now. But only when all of the household settled in their sleep. At night.

"Ah, you leave your door open this time, huh?" Newt heard a familiar voice say in his sleep and it was a whisper, soft and quiet. Newt yawned and automatically replied, "It's getting warmer. This room needs some fresh air."

It was true that the weather was getting warmer. The season was changing from spring to early summer. In his drowsiness, Newt realized who the voice belonged to. Thomas. The change in the season stroke into Newt that Thomas and he had been boyfriends through the spring. The word _boyfriends_ still made his heart flutter like the first time Thomas said it _'So we're boyfriends now?'_ and Newt had chuckled, joyfully, and nodded his head frantically. 

Not just a boyfriend, but a boyfriend who was _a jock_. Let's think about how cool it sounds. And even more awesome if he were a girl. But because Newt was a boy, so there was, still, a big deal for him to acknowledge the fact that he had a boyfriend.

And again, it still had been a cozy spring. With Thomas' warm gaze, his bright smile and that kind of kissable lips, it had been a cozier spring than any spring that Newt had lived through. But all of these things wrenched Newt's heart tightly when he thought about having to hide them from people. Newt was happy with Thomas, but the turmoil feeling in his stomach was unceasing.

Thomas must have come in his room through the door of the balcony. He had done it several times but this was the first time Newt just opened it in advance instead of locking it down and waiting until he got Thomas' message. Newt was the type of person, in his own awareness, who easily felt unsafe. He had no great strength and skills in fighting, nor a pair of wings that could enable him to fly and escape any assault. That was the reason why Newt locked all the windows in his room and opened the front door to the hall. If anything happened, Newt would scream and Gally would float into his room in a blink of an eye. Newt could see that Gally was a pain in the ass to many people, but Gally was still his brother and one of the brother's instincts was protectiveness. And to be frank, Gally liked the idea of fighting.

But Newt wouldn't tell Thomas that that was the reason why he always kept the door to the balcony closed. Because now there was Thomas, so there was no need to lock it anymore. Thomas, as cheesy as it sounded, was Newt's guardian angel. As long as he kept appearing on Newt's room balcony, Newt would feel at ease.

Newt felt a warmth of skin touch his face, his eyelids fluttering open. Thomas was there, standing by his bed and bending down a little to rest his palm on Newt's cheek. In the dim light of the bedside lamp, Newt could see Thomas in his green T-shirt and yellow pajama bottom, it was a weird combination that caused Newt's lips twist up.

"Sleepy?" Thomas asked, thumb brushing his cheekbone gently, as if to lull him further to his unconsciousness.

Newt pushed himself up and rubbed his eyes, trying to get some sober. "I've just dozed off," said Newt in small voice as to avoid waking up his brother whose room was next to his.

Thomas came and sat down on the edge of the bed, his weight making the mattress sag slightly, his wings touching Newt's leg. He turned his body a little to face Newt, who was sitting fully on the bed.

"You know, just sleep if you need it, we've already known how wings work and we only need the conclusion to finish the essay. I could write it myself," Thomas said, one of his hands resting on Newt's knee.

"Tommy, remember what you said? It's for a pair of students, not a single one," Newt said convincingly, and swung his legs off the bed edge to sit side by side with Thomas,their wings touching. Newt's wings, of course, went frozen against the impact, but Thomas had got used to it, he was unflinching. But he seemed surprised at the fact that Newt decided to let their wings bumping each other instead of sitting with a certain distain like he had always done. His eyes widened and blinked a few times before he slid his arm around Newt's back to pull him closer, and perked his cheek softly. 

"What was that for?" Newt said sheepishly. He wouldn't lie to himself that he had got used to this kind of intimate action, it still took him by surprise every time.

Thomas searched his face closely, contemplating, the lamp reflexing goldenly in his cameral eyes. "You remember what I said."

"Well," Newt said, "I remember everything you said, Tommy."

Thomas hummed in pleasant. But the smile on his face faded after a moment like something had just hit him.

"I know it's not right to ask," Thomas started again, his hand fiddling with the hem of Newt's pajama shirt and trailed off.

Newt nodded his head. "Go on."

"Could I ask you why you kissed me that day? It just—you just—suddenly kissed me. And the disturbing thought that you just did it to satisfy your curiousi—" Thomas said, voice crack, his expression miserable and Newt couldn't help but yank him in by the collar of his tee to kiss him. Their mouths met hard and fast, noses bumped each other clumsily. Thomas gasped in surprise, stunned.

Newt pulled out even before Thomas could kiss back.

"No," Newt said and halted to try to put his thoughts into words. Newt was never good at talking, especially when it came to emotional things. So he decided just to say what he felt in the simple way in the hope that Thomas could see how sincere he was to this relationship. "The feelings—too much. I—I couldn't bottle them up anymore. That was the reason, nothing more."

Thomas' gaze was trained on him, and it was the kind of gaze that was so intense that Newt could choke on it.

There came the silence, the comfortable silence in which both of them just sat there, looking into each other's eyes. Thomas put a smile on his face again, and after a moment, a frown.

"What?" Newt asked nervously. He was replaying what he had just said in his head to find out what part was wrong. But the thing Thomas said next was unexpected.

With careful tone, Thomas asked."May I see your limb? Your broken bone I mean?"

Newt found himself frozen like his wings. Thomas just stayed put and waited, he said nothing more. Drawing in a deep breath, Newt pushed Thomas' hand away from his hip. The apologetical glint immediately came into Thomas' eyes.

Newt stood up when Thomas grabbed his wrist and said, "Newt, I'm sorry, I didn't mean—"

Newt looked down at him, cutting him off, "Just stay here."

Thomas tilted his head to one side, eyeing him thoughtfully and nodded, letting off of Newt's wrist. He picked his way to the door, peeked his head out to check there was no one in the hallway, and closed it with a soft click of the lock being latched. Then he strode to the door of the balcony, on the way there he turned his head a little to glance at Thomas, who was sitting on the bed with his eyebrow raising questioningly. He locked the door as well and pulled the curtains to blocked out the outside view.

Newt's hands still clutched at the edges of the curtains, readying himself for what he was going to do. He had never let anyone know his unfixable part before, and got the feeling too much was exposed. Newt didn't want anyone know his weakness. One deep breath, two deep breath, and three. Newt wheeled his body towards the only source of light in the room. Thomas had already stood up, his expression showing his anxiety as much as Newt knew his own was.

"Is that really necessary?" Thomas asked as Newt approached him, indicating the main door and the balcony door.

Newt stood in front of him, licking his lips nervously. "Yeah, if we get caught, my parents will kill both of us."

Thomas' face turned into the frightened expression, "You're not kidding?"

Newt couldn't help but breath out a laughter, "It's just an expression."

The relief in Thomas was palpable. Newt swallowed, bracing himself and began to spread his right wing. It was the first time Newt spread it in full length since the accident, he had even thought it wasn't capable of doing this course of action anymore, but luckily it was. The layer of feathers on the tip of his wing must have blocked the light from the lamp, but the golden light still somehow got through his feathers like they were filmy. Thomas looked dumbstruck. His eyes were fixed on Newt's wing intensely and his body was still as though he was holding his breath. And only then that Newt knew he was not the only person having to brace himself.

"Here," Newt said after a long moment of stillness between them. Thomas jumped out a little at a sudden voice breaking the silence, his eyes tearing off Newt's wing to look at his face. "Give me your hand," Newt demanded and when Thomas offered him his hand, he took hold of it and lifted it towards his right wing.

Thomas' hand suddenly jerked back midway, his wrist taunting in Newt's hand. "What's wrong?" Newt asked, already afraid of Thomas having some unnerving feelings towards his wings when they were spreading.

"You sure?" Thomas asked instead.

Newt found himself smile at that. Thomas was Thomas, always worrying about others' feeling first.

"Well," Newt snorted, "you can touch it, but it will still keep frozen. Hope you don't mind."

Thomas rolled his eyes funnily but Newt could see disappointment flashing over his eyes for a moment. When Newt felt Thomas' arm relaxed, he brought it to the radiale bone of his wing. As soon as Thomas's palm rested on it, Newt grimaced against his will. Thomas put his hand away immediately.

"Does it hurt?" Thomas asked and stepped closer to the wing, but he just stared at it without any intention on reaching forward to touch the broken bone again.

"Sometimes," Newt answered helplessly, "it aches when the weather changes. Or it pains me when being pressed with a certain force."

"What about when you fly?" Thomas kept asking and eyeing Newt wing observantly, his brows furrowing like he was calculating something in his intelligent mind.

Newt fluttered his wings a little as if to check the reaction of his own wing, "There'd be only a light twinge on the good days. But since it has a crack on it and been dislocated, the balance becomes a great deal to be handled. So I just stopped flying. It's for the best."

Thomas listened to him carefully but said nothing more after that. He just stood there, patting his index finger on his chin, contemplating thoughtfully.

Some minutes later, Thomas finally said, with a ridiculous politeness, "Thank you for showing me your limb, your Highness. Now, would you like me to fly you to my room to finish our essay?"

Newt laughed at that and decided to go along with it. He lowered his wing and flexed his legs in the manner that ladies often did before the dance. "My pleasure, Lord Tommy," he replied.

~~~~~~~~~

"Ah, love birds," Minho greeted them as soon as their feet touched the ground of Thomas' room. "What took you two so long to get here? Don't tell me you have just had . . ." Minho left his sentence unfinished with a wriggle of his eyebrows and a smirk on his lips that suggested _'sex'_.

"Why are you still here?" Newt found himself blushing hard and snapped back. Really, it was over midnight and "You're supposed to be sleeping," and "in your own room."

Minho glanced up at him from the place he was sitting on the floor and pouted, "When did you start sweeping me away to relish your time alone with Thomas, huh? I'm hurt, buddy, really hurt."

Thomas seemed amused at the conversation. He climbed to sit on the bed, arms crossing over his chest and watched them fondly with a smile tugging on his lips.

"I—" Newt stammered, searching for words to defend himself. "It's over midnight so I thought you were sleeping."

Minho squinted at him for a moment and tapped his fingers onto the big cardboard laying on the floor before him. "I really want to, but things must be done."

"What things?" Newt asked, confused.

"You know, Newt," Minho grinned up at him, "maybe if you help me finish this poster, I'll forgive you putting me asides earlier."

Newt felt himself protesting again, still standing helplessly in the middle of the room instead of taking a seat anywhere. "I—I never put you—"

Thomas bursted out laughing, cutting him off. "Minho's just messing with you, Newt. Don't take it that serious."

Newt looked at Thomas and turned back to look at Minho, asking for confirmation.

"No," said Minho, frowning a little. "I'm deadly serious. Teresa made me design this poster for her club. Thomas fooled her that I was good at drawing. Unfortunately, I am not." Then he grabbed an eraser from the floor and threw it at Thomas' head and it hit its goal with a yelp from Thomas.

Newt found his way to sit across from Minho, looking down at the blank cardboard between them. Minho quickly gave him a pencil with his pleading eyes.

"Alright," said Newt, taking the pencil from his friend who smiled gratefully at him. "I'm not very talented, but no doubt better than you. Tell me what I'm having to draw?"

If the weather hadn't been quite cool right now, Minho would have been sweating at that. Newt knew that uncomfortable expression Minho was wearing. Minho said, uneasily, "Well, Teresa's going to start a LGBTQ support club next week, which she had to put a lot of effort into getting school approval for months."

Newt found his grip on the skinny pencil tighter, he feared it would break with a little bit more force from him.

"Newt, you don't have to draw it if you find it uncomfortable." Newt heard Thomas say. Thomas was the one who knew better than anyone how much Newt was afraid of being involved in this kind of public that could announce his identity.

Newt turned his gaze from the cardboard to look up at Thomas then. Thomas gave him a concerned and crooked smile and he climbed off the bed. Newt's followed his movement and a moment later felt a hand on his shoulder.

"Newt, come in my bed—not the other mean—and finish our essay, shall you?" Thomas asked, voice soft.

Newt released the poor pencil and reached up both of his hands to take Thomas' hand and began playing with his fingers like he often did. He glanced cursorily at Minho and saw the flicker disappointment in his eyes, but Minho still gave him a nod and an _'it's okay'_ smile.

"Could you write a conclusion then we'll edit the whole essay together later?" Newt asked, looked back up Thomas. When Thomas nodded, Newt said, "I want to help Minho with this. It's the least thing I can do for you guys."

Thomas eyes widened at that but went tender again.

"My savior," Minho praised and began to collected all the brushes and color boxes around him and push them in Newt's direction.

Thomas ruffled his hair like he was a kid. "Alright, but do it fast and get home before anyone get aware of your disappearance," warmed Thomas, giving him a faked stern look. "I really don't have any desire in getting into trouble with your family before you come out of that damn closet."

Newt knew it was just a joke with no purpose when Thomas said it, but he still felt the prickle of guilt in his chest. Thomas never pushed him about this before, he knew it was no easy for Newt like it was for him. And Newt was grateful.

"You won't. And I will," said Newt, smiling up at Thomas, who smiled back at him.

~~~~~~~~~

And that was how Newt found himself, a week later, stand in front of the club room.

Four of them were waiting for the bell of the last period to ring and the students would pour into this hallway. Mrs. Chancellor had generously let them skip some last minutes of the class so that they could go finish the preparation of the open of the club. She had been quite pleased when Thomas was one of the few students signing up to show the achievements that they had gain during the semester. When Newt asked what it was, Thomas just said he would know it at the final Bio class. Newt had scrutinized him and Thomas had said _'We'll get the plus mark, nothing to worry about'_ so Newt just dropped it. Thomas said him not to worry, so he shouldn't be.

And now Minho was sitting with Teresa at the reception table with a pile of flyers and a pile of register forms for those who wanted to join their club.

Newt was pinning the poster onto the banner stand and Thomas was, cutely and sweetly, holding a basket with cookies in it and standing next to Newt. Once in a while Newt caught Thomas stealthily picking up a cookie and bringing it up to his mouth.

"Stop it," said Newt, smacking Thomas as the boy chewed on his new stolen cookie.

"What?" Thomas asked around a mouthful of food.

"I didn't bake cookies for you to cram," Newt grumbled.

"There're a lot," muffled Thomas and he pointed at two basket of cookies on the table their friends were sitting at. "And beside, not only you baked them, I baked too."

"Of course you did," Newt spoke with an affected drawl.

Newt thought about it in terror. 

Last night, Newt had once again came over Minho's house just to check the poster looked pretty and also appropriate. And Minho had asked him to make some refreshments since everyone was attracted to food.

"Ask your Mom," Newt had said.

"It's the shucking middle of night," Minho had reasoned.

"We can buy them tomorrow," Newt had snapped back.

"There's no time," Minho looked urgent.

"It's the shucking middle of night," Newt repeated Minho's words with a flat and humorless smile.

"I can help you if you bake some cookies," Thomas had chimed in, seeming excited and enthusiastic.

"Fine," Newt had groaned and gave each of them a sneer.

And that how he knew now that he was wearing black bags under his eyes.

He and Thomas had finished the cook only when the ridiculously big grandfatherclock in the kitchen of Minho house showed that it was three a.bloody.m. Minho, the one had begged him to cook, had begged him not to make any noise as well as not to wake his parents. Newt had tried hard not to be loud. 

But there had been Thomas. Thomas, his boyfriend, who had stirred eggs like he was about to crash the bowl with the spoon—the clattering sound that could have wrecked the entire neighborhood—and sang off-key Troye Sivan's songs to break the quietness of the house. Troye's sad songs sounded sadder when they were performed by Thomas' voice. And Newt was the one who had had to clean the mess of powder that Thomas spilled out in the air and on the kitchen floor. 

When Thomas offered to help him, Newt had been so glad, and he regretted it. Three out of fives batches were successfully baked, which was all Newt's effort. The other two were a disaster. One was a sticky mess that Newt'd felt like mutilating his hands to scrub it off the stray. The other was totally burned. 

Thomas, being a wonderful and caring boyfriend and worrying his blonde boyfriend might get hungry, had even baked Newt a cupcake with three inches of topping cream. How could he even do that, Newt had no bloody idea. Newt, being a type of boy that barely turned anyone down and wanting to make his dark-haired boyfriend happy, had took the cupcake really carefully as not to drop the topping. Thomas had looked at him, intensely, like he was waiting for a show to be on, which made Newt recalled their first kiss. Newt had smiled and began to enjoyed the cupcake. And trying his best effort not to spit it out. It seemed like Thomas had mistook and added salt into the cupcake instead of sugar, Newt had to emphasized that A LOT of salt. Newt should have known what this cupcake would taste like given by two batches Thomas had baked. 

Newt shuddered when the flashback ended in his head. He already felt his stomach scramble now.

There came the ring. Four of then exchanged expecting looks. Newt finished with the poster and came to stood side by side with Thomas. Thomas seemed bemused and said, his voice quiet, "Uh, Newt. You could go home if you don't wanna be here."

Newt looked at his feet and nodded slightly, feeling his heart tight, "Yeah."

Spinning on his heel, Newt hesitated. He whirled around to look at Minho and Teresa, who looked back at him with uncertain expressions, and looked at Thomas, his boyfriend, standing alone with cookie basket in his hands, his head ducking to gaze down at the floor and his face a rueful expression.

Newt bit his lips and drew in a deep breath. When he came back to stand next to Thomas and nudged him lightly, Thomas startled and lifted his head up. His eyes were wide and full of shock when they landed on Newt.

"I think it's alright if I just stand here, supporting my friends," Newt explained, then whispered to Thomas's ear, "and my boyfriend."

Thomas laughed and unconsciously picked up another cookie and bit it. He chewed it happily like a child had just been awarded a cookie by his mother after getting a high mark at school.

The students started flowing into the hallway. Their reactions to a LGBTQ support club were various. There were not so much Darkors enrolling in this semester so most of the reaction either positive or negative belonged to Lighters. And most of them seemed bemused rather than annoyed, much to Newt's surprise. 

There was a group of girls approaching them and taking the flyers from Minho, contemplating. Brenda stayed at the table to talk back and forth with Teresa about their bio essay when Thomas offered the others cookies. They took them with giggles and began to murmur into each other's ears that it was unfortunate that Minho and Thomas were gay or they would love to date one of them. Thomas hid his laugh behind his hand and Minho just simply said, "Well, I'm bi, ladies, and I'm available."

The girls giggled again and pointed at Newt. "You're Newt right? Gally's younger brother? You're ga—?" One of them asked and was cut off by Thomas.

"More cookie?" Thomas asked and winked flirtatiously at her.

The girl immediately blushed like the understanding came to her. "Oh, thanks," she said, taking the cookie and turned to her friends. "We should go or we'll miss out on the final episode of HIMYM."

"Why she reacted like that to your offer?" Newt asked curiously once those girl had promised to come back their club (for cookies) and left.

"It's not about the offer," said Thomas. "It's a female sense. She could easily realize we're a couple when I suddenly intervened in your conversation."

"Oh," murmured Newt. "Oh, well, such an observant and subtle girl."

"Yeah," said Thomas, smiling at him.

Boys barely gave their group a second glance, which was understandable. But there were some, two or three by now, seemed curious and discreetly scanned through the poster. Those boys would come back here one day, Teresa said. And there were Clint and Jeff, who had no hesitation and became the first members of their club.

Things went smooth like that until a familiar yellow head showed up in the hallway. Newt felt a string of alarming needles running up his spine. Gally and his loyal disciples moved towards them with the disdain expression and speed like they were about to lunge at their group in any moment.

Gally, with his jaw pulled tight, shouted once he reached them. "What the bloody hell you're doing here, Newton?" 

Newt felt his mouth sealed. Thomas just stood still and calmly beside him, but Newt could feel the air of annoyance radiating off him. The atmosphere became tense in a split of a second.

Gally's eyes looked like they were going to fall out of their sockets. Minho was the first to react.

"Chill out, man," said Minho, already coming to stand between Gally and them as if to ready himself for any fight that might be happening any time soon.

Gally glared at him then at Thomas, not even bother giving Minho a glance. "Only faggots loiter here. Don't tell me you're gay too."

"I–" Newt opened his mouth but no word came out. His hair stood on end under the grim gaze of his brother.

"Let's see how much disappointed our parents will feel when they find out," Gally threatened.

" _No, I'm not._ " Newt heard himself choke out the words. His heart clenched so painfully in his chest he thought it would break when he glanced sideway at Thomas. Thomas' gaze on him was hollow and he turned his head away, like trying to hide his expression from Newt. If this situation could make any physical pain, Newt was suffering with all parts of his body.

"So get home. NOW." He heard his brother command in an angry and hoarse voice, and Gally nodded at one of his disciples who had orange hair, hinting something.

A moment later, the redhead boy rushed to the table and grasped a pile of flyers and tore them with his muscled arms. He saw Teresa rise up from her seat and yank back the papers but they were now a pile of ragged pieces. Then the boy flung them upwards, paper scattering in the air like firework of six-colored rainbow and falling down onto the floor.

The boy smirked, and Teresa looked like she was about to claw it off his face. She cursed, cheeks heating red in anger. "You son of the bitch."

Newt fixed his gaze back to his brother in disbelief. Gally just laughed, satisfied.

And there came a flash of movement. Thomas put the basket he was holding onto the table—put it down so forcefully that some of the cookies bouncing out of it. They smashed when they met the floor. In the following second, he saw one of Thomas' hands grasp at Gally's shirt collar, looking extremely enraged. His other was drawing back into fist. Newt flung himself forwards before Thomas' fist hit Gally's face.

"Don't," Newt shouted, one hand wrapping around Thomas' wrist. Thomas turned to look at him, his expression full of wrath. Newt shook his head and said again, voice pleading, "Don't, Tommy."

The crease between Thomas' brows faded when his eyes met Newt's. But he was panting hard like he was forcing himself to swallow down his fury. Shutting his eyes for a moment of accepting, Thomas released Gally with a sigh as Newt lowered his fist down.

Gally smirked at Thomas. "That's right. You shouldn't hit me, unless you want to see my mother's reposte."

Newt's eyes automatically flickered at the white scar on Thomas' cheek. He still felt the sharp pain of the memory coursing through him.

"Go home, Gally," said Newt, voice cold and distant or that was what he liked it to be. Gally was losing Newt's last respect to him.

Gally seemed taken aback by his younger brother's resistance and dismissal. Angrily, he sneered at them then spun on his heel and walked away with his retinue, but not before he pushed the pile of register forms onto the ground. Some of the curious and nosey students lingering during the confrontation hastily strode away as they saw the stern glare Teresa was giving them.

Finally they were being left alone. Newt turned his gaze from the reception table to a point on the floor. Thomas' wrist was still in his hand, and he felt strangled, confused and panicked. In the corner of his eyes he saw Teresa and Minho retrieve the pieces of flyers. 

Newt made himself leave Thomas' wrist then turned around and dropped to his knees. Tears were threatening to escape his eyes when he picked up the broken cookies. In his blur vision, he saw Thomas kneel down as well but he just couldn't bring himself to look at his face. He blinked rapidly, as if doing that could push his tears back inside.

"I'm sorry, Tommy," Newt said, his voice strapped, "if it hadn't been for me staying here, Gally wouldn't have—"

Thomas' sudden grip on his wrist cut him off. Thomas said with gentle voice, "I'm glad you decided to be by my side." Then he rose to his feet and pulled Newt up with him. "Newt, come with me."

After, Thomas led him by the wrist to the gymnastic room where all the basket ball players had already left. Newt knew it because they had just loudly walked by the club room to get home with balls bouncing up and down under their hands.

Thomas made him sit down onto one of the benches and followed suit, but his legs were on either edge of the bench. Newt turned and looked at him, Thomas' expression unreadble, and Newt lowed his head to gaze down at his hands which were rubbing nervously at his knees.

"Newt, look at me," said Thomas. When Newt didn't listen to him, Thomas grabbed his shoulders and turned Newt's body in his direction. Feeling pliant, Newt lifted his feet off the ground and made him sit wholly on the bench with legs crossed under him. They were face to face but Newt fixed his eyes on Thomas' jaw instead of his eyes.

"Gally," Newt found himself begin first, "he's not a bad guy."

"I know," said Thomas.

Newt looked at Thomas' eyes then, to see if he was joking. But there was no funny glint in his eyes.

"You do?" Newt couldn't help his surprise. When Thomas nodded, he began again to spill out the words that had been rising to the tip of his tongue since he was only a child. 

"It's funny how much I had wished to be like Gally one day," Newt said it bitterly and snorted out a laughter at himself. "I just wanted my parent to feel proud of me like they of my big brother." And he ducked his head again, feeling the absolute of his self-consciousness.

What following them was an uncomfortable silence in which Newt thought what Thomas were thinking about him. Weak.

When Thomas' fingers tilted his face up, it took Newt by surprise that Thomas was smiling at him instead of frowning.

"Listen to me, Newt," said Thomas, his thumb tapping Newt's chin to get his attention. Once Newt gave him a nod, Thomas continued, his voice smooth and soft. "Gally is a great son, no doubt. He knows what your parents expect from him. But you are a great person, Newt. You know what you need and you're trying to get them for no one but yourself, to make your life better."

"Tommy, how could I be a great person when I constantly disappoint people around me? I even couldn't defend you guys in front of my brother. At least Gally could live and behave the way he wanted."

Thomas' brows began to furrow. He looked at Newt for a long moment then shook his head.

"Gally may be an idle mirror for you to follow," said Thomas, then Newt nodded. Thomas sighed at him and continued, "But he's just the reflex of your parents. I don't think Gally would be such of an ass and homophobia if it weren't for the fact that your parents and the society you're living in have a huge and negative impact on him."

Newt was flabbergasted at the truth in Thomas' words.

"But—" Newt said, and was cut off by Thomas.

"But?" asked Thomas, and shook his head again. "The only but right now is that you don't have to be like anyone else, Newt. You being just yourself is enough. You used to do like being told but you never think like being told. No one could waver your belief and your faith. But the only person you need to believe in right now is you. I know you always get the feeling that you are no great son to your parents to be proud of, but you are an amazing man that you should be proud of yourself."

If human could still be alive with their heart pause even for a mere second, Newt thought his heart were totally stopping now, had been stopping since Thomas began his speech. 

A sudden thought stroke him, and Newt flung his legs off of the bench and stood up. Thomas jumped out at the action.

"Newt—" Thomas began again. "If there were something I said that offended you, I—"

"I have to go home," Newt bursted.

"Newt—" Thomas stood up as well, looking panicked. "What's the matter?"

"Right now," Newt said then found himself grinning at Thomas. The black-winged boy gave him a confused look but nodded his head eventually.

"HEY," Thomas shouted after him when he was almost out of the gymnastic room. When Newt turned back to look at him, Thomas said, "I don't know what are you getting yourself at, but at least leave your door open tomorrow night."

"I will," Newt shouted back. Then ran through the hallway. His heart was pounding in his chest like the vigorous beats of a drum.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little sneak peek hehehe:
> 
> "You have to understand," Newt felt the words pushed out of his lungs. "This is what they wanted, they wanted us to turn our back on each other. Listen to me, Tommy—" Newt pleaded, instinctively reaching foward to grab at his boyfriend's upper arm.
> 
> But Thomas took a step back and avoided Newt's hold. There was no light in his always warm and bright eyes when he said. "And you have helped them get it."
> 
> Newt blenched, Thomas' words shot a bitting pain through his body. His hand was left alone in the air, and Newt forced himself to put it down back to his side. Trembling.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess what? 9k words of pain. I hated myself while writing this chapter. But I quite like the idea that you—my dear supportive readers—hate our two smol sons for their fooliness (and even me) for a moment so you can love them so much more later. Hahaha.
> 
> ~~  
> Enjoy the pain, fellows!!!

The way back home suddenly looked so different for Newt. It seemed like he saw them for the first time. And he felt, even just the slightest, even just a beginning of something that might be his future from now, _free_.

Newt ran to his house like he ran labs, with all his strength and Thomas' words racing around in his head. Newt had never been so sure about what he wanted in life, what he really needed. And now the obviousness was right before his face and all he had to do was to grasp it. He wanted Thomas, and he needed to come out to his family. And even if he would be a shame to his parents just so he could be with Thomas, it was worth.

His parents would see him in different eyes, would treat him not the same way, but screw it all, it couldn't get any worse for Newt. And Gally, Newt wouldn't need to take revenge by giving him a fist for what he had done, his feeble baby brother in love with a boy—his foe by the way—was way better than a full-forced punch in his grumpy face.

Newt stormed into his house with a loud bang of the door slammed shut behind his wings that he almost got them stuck at the crack of the door, and tossed his satchel haphazardly at the side of the shoe cabinet. Newt even didn't bother putting off his shoes before he strode into the living room to find his parents.

His parents were nowhere to be found, neither was Gally.

"Mrs. Rose," Newt called, and his family steward turned around from her flower vase that she was arranging to look at him. She seemed to perk up at the presence of Newt, her small and elegant wings flickering lightly.

"Yes, young master?" She said, smiling at him but in the next moment her eyebrows were pulled together at the sight of his shoes still on his feet. The daisy flowers in the case almost resembled her fierce red hair. She looked quite young in her fifty and the dimple on one cheek spoke of a beautiful girl in her youth.

"Stop calling me that. It's 21st century," Newt frowned. "Where're my parents?"

After she poured enough water into the glass global vase, she stood up with the empty water pitcher in her hand and approached him on the door line of the living room.

When she reached him, she asked quite uncomfortably, "Do you want some cookies first? I think your parents are busy with papers."

Newt thought about cookies, then Thomas, then his brother. Newt lost his patience, "Stop playing around, Mrs. Rose. I do not want cookies right now, and where are my parents and Gally?"

She sighed, looking extremely weary. "Fair enough. They're all in the office. And a small piece of advice. Don't come in there, or you'll be stuck with the business you don't want yourself engaged."

Mrs. Rose had a habit of hinting things instead of speaking straight to the issue. She would have been one of his favorite had she stopped implicating things.

"I think you should get yourself some tea and cookies. You look withered," Newt commented and gave her a shake of his head, then he ran his way upstairs to find his family.

"If I do look withered, it's your fault that you get yourself into too much troubles, young master." Newt heard her calling after him. "And put off your shoes, the house has just been cleaned."

What trouble he is getting himself into now, Newt asked himself as he lay his shoes neatly outside the door of the office room before he knocked on it.

"It's Newt," he said, preparing what he had to say again and again in his head—which was actually short and straightforward 'I'm gay'—until the voice of his father raised from inside the room.

"Come in."

Newt worked up all his courage, one hand shaking lightly as he opened the door. 

There were a family meeting happening right here, Newt could see. His parents were sitting upright with grim expressions at one side of the square coffee table. Gally sat across them with his back and wings leaning casually against the chair back, arms folding against his chest. He glanced at Newt with a smirk on his lips as Newt closed the door behind him. Newt rubbed his sweaty palms on his uniform trousers and checked their expressions all again before he made himself sit down on the chair positioned between his parents' side and Gally's side, facing all of them at once. It felt like an interrogation. There was an air of ill omen in this room.

Newt swallowed before he raised his voice. "I have words to say."

He didn't have to wait so long for a response this time. But it was not a 'What's the matter?', it was an order which suddenly and effectively evaporated all the things Newt had had wanted to say.

"We have words too, and first, sign this form," said his mother, passing him a paper sheet with every word already written on it in advance. It seemed like they only waited for him to sign it and things got done.

Newt felt his brows furrow as he took the paper. He looked at the content and blinked with the hope that what he was reading hadn't been real.

"Mother, what's it?" Newt asked, voice trembling.

"A form of protesting the establishment of the LBGT support club at your school," said his mother. Her voice was so nonchalant as though it was an absolutely normal thing to do.

"Wha—? Why do you—?" Newt asked and he tried very hard to sew the words in his mind into intelligible string. 'What is happening here right now? Why are you doing this?' were the questions that needed to be explained. But when Newt looked from the form up at his brother Gally, he just knew.

"Why have you done this, Gally?" He asked this even when he already knew the answer. Anger was boiling in his blood.

Gally looked at him blankly. "I know you know the answer. But if you want to hear it, fine. I don't like queers, we," said Gally, gesturing their parents as well, "don't like them. And what we don't like even more is that they could do whatever they wanted freely."

Newt sensed his breath turning into quick pants and felt like a thorn protruding from the inside of his throat. It was hurt, and it felt like if he kept talking, the sharp thorn would bleed him. This family was bleeding him by their ruthlessness.

"What have you done?" Newt asked no one in particular, but he hoped he would get the answer.

"We've made a contact to your school office. There has to be at least twenty protest letters from students to turn down a decision," his mother said and nodded at the paper. "Now sign it, you're the last one."

"Why me?" Newt asked and heard his voice crack, "Why you have to have me sign it?"

Gally said without any emotion on his face as though it meant nothing for Newt. "Because you're those Darkers' friend."

Perhaps Newt face showed all of his disbelief and confusion since Gally kept talking. "We told you not to be sociable with them before. We warmed you. Let's see how much offended they will get when they find out it was their friend the one who signed the last form. Now it's time to end this bullshit friendship."

Newt hands clenched into fists. His blood was boiling in his veins. This whole thing was insane.

"You're bullshit. I'm not going to sign this damn paper," Newt shouted and flung the sheet onto the table, already standing up and about to leave this damned room. The heat of his fury and the coldness in his mother's eyes made Newt feel nauseous.

"Newt, sign the form unless you want us to sue your friend Thomas for beating Gally before," his mother's voice pulled him back. Newt felt cold shot up his spine even as his sweat began to fall down from his temples. "You know how good our lawyer is and how close the relationship between your principle and us is. And I'm sure you don't want to see your friend expelled from school."

"You all seemed to think through, didn't you?" Newt heard how rude and bitter he sounded. This was the first time Newt talked like that to his family. But for Newt now nothing could get worse. The sickening feeling in his stomach made him want to either faint or throw up right there and then.

"Don't be such a whelp, Newton. Sign it, NOW" she demanded, rearranging the form and putting the pen neatly beside it, looking at him firmly.

"Is cruelty one of your favorite manner?" Newt asked and tried to hold his tears back. Newt realized the words that had just come out was even more hurtful to himself than anyone else.

"We are not. We just want to make sure everything has its limitations and its position. Lightor students having to put up with those Darkors is bad enough. What do you think worse than having a support club for homosexual in a respected school? Nothing. Now sign it."

It was his father saying.

~~~~~~~~~

From _TM_ : **Happy birthday, beauty!**

Newt woke up, not really. It was like being pulled out of his glazed thoughts. It would have been a wonderful thing when you opened your eyes to a loving wish from your beloved one on your birthday morning. But this message was an irony. Newt knew his birthday this year would be the worst birthday of his life.

Newt sat up slowly and heard his bones crack due to his curling position earlier. His wings were wearier and heavier than usual. His whole body protested when he got out of the bed and stood up. He felt dead on feet even when he hadn't done nothing except tossing and turning in his bed for all night, barely sleeping a wink. The throbbing ache behind his eyes was becoming unbearable. Looking out through the window, Newt cursed under his breath. The sky was colored with grey clouds, boding ill for a really heavy rain. Shuck. Why does the weather always has to get bad when he is in bad mood?

From _TM_ : **Still not up, sleeping beauty? Need a kiss to revere the spell?**

Another message.

Newt looked at his phone scene and switched it off. He tossed it onto the bed and flopped back onto it as well, his wings spreading tiredly on the mattress, and stared at the ceiling glazedly. Maybe he should take a day off. Newt groaned with his hands covering his face. He had signed it. He had signed that bloody form and it had been sent directly to the principle office with other nineteen forms right after he had been excused to leave the office.

He even hadn't had a chance to speak what he wanted to speak. Or rather, what he had wanted to. Suddenly Newt feared of the coming out to his family prospect. It was not easy to just be rebellious for once in his life like he had thought it would be.

Newt flailed his arms back onto the mattress and one hand collided with the phone. He fondled it idly in his hand.

Maybe he should go to school and face Thomas. The announcement of the club being closed would be delivered to all the members in no time. Or it would be informed in a paper pinned on the bulletin board to inform the whole school, which was worse. If Thomas was mad at him, Newt would at least be there to explain it himself and take responsibilities for it. Newt realized how much the news would hurt Thomas and his friends like it did to Newt. Thomas would be hurt worst. Newt couldn't believe he had betrayed his boyfriend, the only person making him believe in himself, and now Newt would lose his trust just because of his family's mislead thoughts. 

Groaning one more time and trying to bite back his sob, Newt pulled himself off the bed and got ready for school, for facing Thomas.

Newt already found his boyfriend leaning against his locker when he turned in the hallway. Thomas was flashing him that perfectly white-teethed smile when Newt forced his legs to approach him.

"Come closer so I could sing Happy birthday into your ear!" Thomas said, giggling. His happy expression stabbeb at Newt's heart. 

Biting his lower lip and swallowing down on his guilt, Newt gave a quick glance around to check the hallway empty and leaned in closer. Thomas stepped forwards as well until his lips were just an inch away from Newt's ear, Thomas' breath swaying his hair lightly.

"Your hair smells different," Thomas said out of the topic, his breath now ghosting on Newt's cheek.

"Yeah?" Newt said awkwardly. It was true that he had changed the shampoo. But why did Thomas kno—

"It used to have the same scent with my blue scarf," Thomas whisper was barely audible that Newt had thought, for a brief moment, that he was hearing him mistakenly.

"You—" Newt immediately found himself flush and stuttered, "you recognized it?" And felt a rush of embarrassment heating up his cheeks.

Thomas leaned back at that and let his gaze catch Newt's eyes, searching his face closely.

He said, "I recognize every small detail about you, I know it sounds creepy," and huffed out a laughter.

Newt said nothing but flushed harder.

"And you are looking somber," Thomas added as his laugh died out, and shook his head lightly. "Something wrong?"

Newt's stomach dropped and he felt extremely grateful that the bell began to ring. He jerked his chin at it and said, "I—We should go."

Thomas pouted but nodded anyways, "Meet me here at break, shall you?"

Newt avoided Thomas' eyes and managed a curt nod before he strode in the direction of his class.

Spending a whole first period finding the way to confess to Thomas, which Newt failed, he hardly listened to anything the teacher said. He felt so stuck that he even wished the period would never end. The bell rang again and his classmates poured out of the room, Newt dropped his head in his arms on the desk and groaned in frustration.

And now he found himself turning a corner in the hallway to meet Thomas, to tell him about the wrong thing he had done. He hoped he could get Thomas somewhere that they could be alone. It was easier to confess his fault if there were only two of them, and much easier for him to use some sort of intimate actions to cool him down if he got really upset.

But before he could reached his locker, he saw the bulletin board surrounded by students, looking at it with various expressions, indifferent, surprised, satisfied. All the club members looked furious, even Minho, who never lost his temper, looking extremely annoyed and pissed. And there was Thomas, standing out in the crowd with his one-in-a-kind wings, his face emotionless.

Newt stopped short, craned at the sight, the air stifling in his lungs. What if Thomas hated him? Loathed him even. Getting cold feet, Newt considered going hide somewhere until everything settled down. But Thomas didn't deserve to deal with it alone, even if he got his friends, Newt should be there for him.

Newt barely heard the footsteps approaching him as the battle in his mind and his heart kept going on until an arm flung across his shoulders. Startled, Newt jumped around and saw his brother. The satisfaction on his face was a kind that one might have when he won the war even before it broke out, which was somewhat true in this situation.

"Why hesitating, dear brother?" asked Gally, smirking slyly. "Your friends're waiting for you over there, aren't they?"

Before Newt could do any of reaction or protest, the older boy forced him to approach the crowd with his strong arm.

Newt had thought he and Gally would have to jostle through the crowd, but of course they didn't, because Gally was Gally. The students standing in their path automatically stepped to the sides to let them get their way to the bulletin board. Thomas' group stood in the middle of the crowd, right in front of board. All the hands clenched into fists.

Apparently they could feel the change in the air of the crowd's sudden movement for they spun their heads in the new-coming students. Teresa rolled her eyes in distaste at the sight of Gally. Minho even didn't bother to give Gally a second glance.

Thomas' eyes turned from the board to look at them. They suddenly lit up with some new glint when they landed on Newt's face. Then he swung his gaze over Newt's shoulder. His jaw clenched tight when he saw Gally behind Newt's back, and Newt felt as if he were a puppet. But Thomas still seemed to hold himself back and returned his eyes to him. And then he gave Newt a subtle smile, small and secretive.

Newt's heart sank. Guilt washed over him in waves so violently that his body would have swayed if it hadn't been for Gally's arm still behind his shoulder.

"Uh," Thomas began awkwardly, clearly didn't know what should behave in front of his secret boyfriend and that boyfriend's aggressive brother. Newt knew Thomas still wanted to finish the punch that Newt had stopped him the previous day. "The club—"

Teresa interrupted him, voice filled with anger, "It's closed without even a day operating, I'm gonna ask the officer to explain this bullshit."

"Twenty protest forms led to your defeat, Tessa," Gally informed, showing his bloody knowledge. He even put that kind of faked sympathy expression on his face. Newt pushed his arm out of his shoulder and got a step away.

"My name is Teresa, you idiot," Teresa snapped. "And who the hell would sign that form, we barely did something that offended anyone."

"I bet you would be very upset that we'd signed the forms to close your club," Gally feigned a sigh, and Newt found his breathing become shallow at that.

" _We_?" It was Thomas who asked, confused. His eyes immediately lifted to Newt's face, questioning. Newt barely opened his mouth before his brother continued.

"Yes, Newton and I," said Gally and shrugged nochalantly. Screw you, Gal _bloody_ ly. Newt hands curled into fists.

Newt tried to register everything and everyone around them, and just simply knew that he shouldn't have this talk here. But it seemed like there was no way back. Still he kept his eyes on Thomas' ones. Trying desperately to keep any contact that was left between only them in this nosey crowd, searching for understanding.

All the eyes now were on him. The crowd was gathered with more and more students who were curios of what was going on. Thomas let out a strangled breath and ran his fingers through his hair with an utter frustrated gesture.

"Newt?" He asked, voice unfamiliar. "You signed it?"

Newt reflexly got another step forward, and was away from Thomas just a feet or two. "Tommy, listen," said Newt, looking straight into Thomas' eyes, hoping for him to understand his action. He was no longer caring if his brother was staring at them or not, the only thing that mattered now was for Thomas to listen to him. Thomas looked at him too, and the glint of hurt began flashing in his eyes. "I—I can explain—"

Gally chimed in, voice furious as he got pissed that his brother begged a Darkor, "He's disgusted by you filthy fagg—"

"You shut your hell up and let him talk," said Thomas, eyes didn't left Newt's even for a second.

"I—" Newt stumbled for words. "It's true that I signed the form, but if I hadn't, you would be expelled from school for your fight with Gally and I—"

"So you signed it? You know it wasn't me who started that fight first, don't you?" Thomas's face now was blank. But the flame of fury suddenly began to burst. "We have witnesses who would tell the truth about that fight—"

"I know, but they would—my family they could—"

And then the bitterness came into Thomas' expression.

"That's right," Thomas smirked humorlessly. "Your family could have the club closed and me expelled, because they have money and power in your fucking Lightor society. I should have known. Yet they could do it even without you signing that freaking form."

"You have to understand," Newt felt the words pushed out of his lungs. "This is what they wanted, they wanted us to turn our back on each other. Listen to me, Tommy—" Newt pleaded, instinctively reaching out to grab his boyfriend's upper arm.

But Thomas took a step back and avoided Newt's hold. There was no light in his always warm and bright eyes but only anger when he said, "And you have helped them get it."

Newt blenched, Thomas' words shot a bitting pain through his body. His hand was left alone in the air, and Newt forced himself to put it down back to his side. Trembling.

There was a murmur of disarrangement across the crowd, but it was not about what Newt had done, it was about the things between two of them. Newt could see Teresa's worry expression in the corner of his eyes. Gally was the one who broke the murmuring, but not meaning any good.

"Wow, you two argue with each other like a couple," said Gally, and Newt could hear his sneer even without turning to look. "You like this fag, Newton?"

Newt flinched. The hall erupted in comment. The murmur raised again, louder this time, and the foulness rose as well. He had to admit he still didn't gave guts to come out to the whole school. This school was the party of judgmental people. Thomas' eyes saw through him, his face a portray of excruciating expectance.

Newt barely found his voice, struggling with words. He let his eyes look around and saw what other students saw in him, disgust. All the students had more or less showed some support for the LGBTQ club were nowhere to be seen, or at least they had disguised in the scornful crowd because they were simply like Newt. They were afraid of being different, and being looked down by other students. 

" _No_ ," Newt said, and the word cut him. The thorn had became a rope of thorns and it was wounding itself around his throat, crawling its sharpness into his flesh.

The pain got unbearable when he saw Thomas just go very stiff and his gaze on him was unsparing. The sickening hollowness spread through him at the pain in Thomas' eyes, or that it was his.

The crowd around them started to laugh seemingly at Thomas and after a moment quieted down to hear what Thomas would respond to it. Given by their various expressions, Newt could tell that they knew Thomas' adoration of him. It had been so obvious right in the first place. Thomas was clear and simple when he liked someone. His emotions had never been masked. He showed his fondness for someone on his face and in the way his eyes always chased after the figure of that person he was attracted to, unconsciously. Newt never accused him of being overt.

But unlike Thomas, Newt had always tried his best to hide his feelings for him, for he didn't want those students or anyone to know. Not that he felt ashamed of being Thomas' boyfriend, but he didn't trust them not to shame Thomas and their relationship.

"I thought you were a better person," Thomas said eventually into the silence, his words echoing the hall, his voice distantly cold like a stranger, and his expression impenetrable. 

Then Thomas walked away.

Newt stood totally numb. He hardly made his mind function normally to find out what he should do now. He heard his friends and his brother confronting each other, the students talking in whispers. Scornful words. Newt's gaze trained on Thomas, a black-winged figure gradually blurred out of his vision and became smaller. He was perhaps some paces away from Newt, yet somehow Newt felt he had never been that far from him. Newt wondered if he would ever be able to reach him anymore.

And Newt suddenly realized the crowd didn't matter to him anymore. He pushed himself through them and ran after Thomas. But when he reached the entrance gate of the building, Thomas had already shot for the grey sky.

~~~~~~~~~

"Young Master, are you alright?"

Mrs. Rose was extremely worried about Newt. He acted so oddly different recently. One day she saw him hide his grin behind his hand when he was walking through the hall alone, seeming not to realize that she was standing right on his path and stumbled on her, still grinning. Another day she saw him grimly walking through the same hall, rubbing his hair frantically like he was about to lose his mind. Either way, she got all nervous about Newt. The boy had never ever showed that much feeling on the outside. He had always put indifferent or even detached expressions on his face. Never there had been a joyfulness in his eyes. And now there was, the last few months.

But Newt had just floated right past her with his face twisted not in the good way like the time he had smiled at his phone when she came to pick up his dirty clothes. Newt had startled at her sudden presence and hastily suppressed his grin and slid the phone under his pillow, she knew she should have knocked. And Newt had never skipped a Hello to her when he got home.

She hastily ran after Newt right after he ascended the stairs, taking three flights at a time. And she did not like the idea of running. She was growing older, her skeletal muscles protesting fiercely. She quickly used her palm to prevent the door from shutting totally and pushed it to strep inside Newt's room.

And found him—with his cheek flushing and sweat soaking the front of his uniform shirt like he had had a long run—yanking all his clothes from the wardrobe and throwing them onto the floor. It was a mess. And it was a sign.

"I'm fine," Newt shouted without giving her a glance. He sounded strangled.

"Are you sure?" Mrs. Rose asked, trying to keep her voice gentle. She knew what his action right now meant. Newt's insecurity was reaching its peak. And once he got himself in there, there would hardly be a way to coax him out in a short amount of time. The last time Newt locked himself, Mrs. Rose had had to spend a whole day asking him to get out, even pretending to sob and beg.

Newt looked at her then, his eyes red, like tears were threatening to fill them.

"No," said Newt with helpless honesty, and stepped forwards, into the space he had just cleaned thoroughly for himself.

Mrs. Rose wanted to stop him, but she knew better than to yank him out and make him sit down for a pep talk. Newt would never crack his mouth in this sort of situation. She really didn't want to scream at him either. This was a time Newt needed privacy for himself. And she should respect it. Maybe she would have to sob and beg him out later. But helping Newt avoiding facing anyone, especially his family right now, was her priority.

"Should I tell your parents that you don't feel well and need some rest?"

"Yes, please," said Newt, his voice getting smaller as he closed the doors.

The soft click of the lock showed that she should retreat. But she spun around again, when she heard Newt call for her.

"Mrs. Rose?"

"Yes?"

"Thank you."

It was a kind of sentence that Mrs. Rose least expected from Newt at this moment. But she was aware of the smile forming on her face and the warmth around her stomach.

"You're welcome," said Mrs. Rose. And when she turned in the front door's direction again, a soft breeze blew at her face. She looked at the balcony and said. "Should I close the balcony door? It's starting to rain and there'll be a flood into your room if you don—"

"No," Newt stopped her, his voice quiet it was barely audible. "Let it open."

Mrs. Rose sighed, but decided to leave it open and leave the room like he wished. She would have to dry the floor later, but she couldn't care less. It was Newt's wish, so let it be. It was his birthday after all. She doubted Newt's parent remembered it.

When she reached the bottom flight of the stairs case, the bell rang.

"Good afternoon, Lady Rose," Minho said with his casual grin when she opened the door, but she could see the dim concern in his expression.

Mrs. Rose let out a short laughter at that. "Good afternoon, Ser Minho, what can I help you?"

"Newt—"

"He's upstairs," she said and stepped aside to let him in. She knew at least Minho could talk to Newt and maybe help the boy.

Minho gave her a nod then ran upstairs.

Mrs. Rose sighed again. For Minho hadn't put off his shoes.

~~~~~~~~

"Could you please peek your head out here, Newt."

Newt heard his friend calling for him from the outside. Newt ignored it.

"Go away."

"You couldn't just tell me to come over—so we can talk now, then kick me out."

"Well," said Newt. "I didn't recall I told you to come over."

Minho's sigh was so loud that he could hear it even through the thick wood door.

"No, you didn't," agreed Minho. "But your abandoned puppy face when Thomas walked away from you said that you need your best friend to be with you. And it's your birthday, I can't leave you by your own after all of these klunks."

"Is it? So why everything turned out like shit to me? Why none of my wishes came true, huh?" Newt said, annoyed. He knew he was acting childish, but who bloody cared.

"Because this is real life, not any cheesy fairy tale," Minho said. "So there will be no prince coming to rescue you. Get your damned ass out here and go meet Thomas."

"Thomas will come," Newt mumbled to himself, but clearly Minho heard it.

He said, "No, he won't. He is busy detaching himself from real life in his damned room. Just like you."

"He will come," Newt said in determination. But his stomach churned, because he really wasn't sure if Thomas still felt up to meeting him.

"So," said Minho. "You'll open that door and get out here, won't you? At least when Thomas comes, he will know that you are actually here but not on some bridge trying to jump down."

"No," Newt heard himself say with sulky voice. "You are my best friend, Minho. At least you know I want to be alone sometimes. This time is an example." Newt never thought he would use their friendship to against Minho. And this was an awful feeling.

He heard Minho grunt in annoyance. "You're being unreasonable, you know?"

"I know," Newt said, and it was nothing but the truth that he was being selfish. But Newt was the kind of person who annoyed others when he was feeling upset. "But it's my wish on my birthday."

"You little piece of crap," said Minho in frustrated voice. "Locking yourself in a fucking wardrobe won't help."

"Reproaching me won't help either," Newt snapped back.

"I'm not reproaching you. I just want you to get out of the closet."

Automatically, Newt said, "My family will disown me."

"Not that closet," Minho groaned, and he knocked at the door of the wardrobe Newt was hiding in. The thump thump sound echoed through Newt's ears. "This closet. And why the hell it can be latched from the inside."

And Newt thought about the reason why. Oh well, he easily got unsafe. At least he could hide in here if anything happened, right? Newt's family didn't know about this inside lock, only Mrs. Rose knew. She had disagreed at first, shaking her head. But after Newt made an offer that he would water the garden for her, her face had perked up immediately and all they had had to do was to wait for his parents to be out and ask his family driver to set the lock.

"It's been like this since my family bought it," Newt lied.

What following was a silence. Newt wrapped his arms around his knees which were pulled into his chest. His long wings were protesting at the confined room. Luckily it was a pretty huge wardrobe. Newt's clothes had been discarded ruthlessly on the floor so he could get some place. After a long moment, Newt felt something crashing the door from the outside. He had thought Minho had banged something onto the door but after a second he realized that Minho was just leaning his back on it.

"You know why I am here, right?" Minho said, his voice so gentle with an edge of tolerance like he was trying to keep it under control. Newt placed his palm on the door. He could feel the vibration on it when Minho talked.

Newt nodded his head and realized that Minho couldn't see him.

"Yeah," Newt said, his fingers idly scratching the door lightly. It was dark here so he couldn't tell if he was doing any harm to the wood.

"To let you know that if anything happens," Minho continued, "there's still someone for you to turn to."

Newt dropped his forehead against the door and murmured, "I know."

"But I really don't know what you are doing, Newt," Minho said, his voice sad and helpless. "You are hurting Thomas, and yourself. I've never pushed you on anything, neither has Thomas. But what you have done today was irritating."

"I was trying to tell him," Newt argued, his voice strapped. "to make him understand."

"Newt, you cannot make someone understand you just by words, but deeds can."

"You want me to come out to my family, after all of what they have done?" Newt asked. He couldn't believe that Minho was asking him to do the thing that would ruin his life. And now that he knew his family would do anything to crush their enemy, there was no doubt that they would make Thomas' life uneasy. And Newt didn't want it to happen to Thomas' life, even more than his own life.

"No," Minho said. "I can't tell you to do what I want, but you need to, at least, let Thomas know that you are serious to this relationship."

"I am serious to our relationship."

"Yet you said 'No' to Gally _twice_. You rejected your own feelings for Thomas _twice_."

"But if I hadn't, my family would—"

"What are you fearing, Newt? You won't get what you want unless you gain it yourself, and almost all the times, you have to lose things to gain things. You do it now and live with it, or you do nothing and live your whole life in regret and the thoughts of What-ifs."

Newt was suddenly aware of the angry coiling inside him. He felt so angry because everything Minho had said was right.

"Are you telling me to lose my family?" Newt asked, and recalled what Thomas had told him about not abandoning his family. But that also meant or Thomas or his family.

"No," said Minho immediately. "I'm hoping for you to lose your old life in which you live without being yourself."

"Just leave me alone," said Newt, blunt. "Please."

He could feel Minho's back leave the door and the rustle sounds when he rose to his feet.

"Don't be mad at me," said Newt. "Thomas is enough."

There was a short string of bitter laughters before Minho said, "I'm not mad at you. I'm just trying to help."

"Just go," said Newt, and he felt himself terrible as soon as the words left his lips.

"But could you at least open the gate for me?" Minho asked after a long moment, as though he was still trying to temp Newt to get out of the wardrobe.

"Fly out of the window, please."

"Can't believe it."

And that was the last words being spoken in the room.

Newt started to feel his body numb at the lack of movements and the narrow space. But he just remained still until he couldn't feel anything at all. He wished he couldn't feel anything at all. But through the chinks on the door, he could still realize the distinctive smell of the rain and hear the pitter patter of it pouring down onto the ground. And he could feel the wrenching of his heart. Newt had ran away from the crowd at school and skipped his classes to get home, to get back to his house actually. Gally seemed satisfied enough that he didn't bother to hold him back to have a pep talk about what had happened. Mrs. Rose seemed surprised when she saw him stride into his room without giving her a Hello smile like he always did when he met her arranging flower vases in the hallway. But she had kindly helped him avoid his family by telling them he needed rest as she stood in front of the locked wardrobe.

Newt wasn't sure how much time he had been dozing off in here until a faint series of wings flickering woke him up. His eyes flickered open with it. Newt squinted at the chink and saw that the night had fallen. The outside was dark. And the rain was getting heavier.

"I told you I want to be alone, Minho," Newt said automatically, rubbing his weary eyes. He hadn't got any sleep last night and now he was on the threshold of the exhaustion. His forehead was sweaty when Newt swiped the back of his hand over it. The rain had brought the cool air but being inside this suffocating wardrobe had nothing to do with it.

"Do you?" The voice said. It was mixed with the rain sound but it was a kind of voice that Newt could recognize anywhere.

And Newt found himself bursting out of the wardrobe. So fast and hard the doors flung open with a loud thud that the hinges could have been broken.

"Tommy, you came!" Newt panted. His legs almost buckled beneath him when he tried to stand on his feet. They were numb and aching. He tried to make his way to the balcony where stood Thomas. He was still in his uniform like Newt. The clothing was beginning to be soaked by the rain drops. His black wings were folded behind his back, looking groom and disheveled. The shades of blue were tarnished by the dark. The dark of the room and the sky. The dark in their chests. The only thing that was bright was a simmering chain Thomas was holding in his hand.

Newt would have reached out to touch him if it hadn't been for the recent memory in which Thomas had stepped away to avoid him. Newt braced a hand on the doorframe to refrain himself from collapsing at the thought.

"Of course I came," Thomas' voice was low and hoarse. "It's your birthday."

"I—" Newt croaked, and didn't have any mind to care about his birthday. He just wanted Thomas to— "You forgave me?"

"Newt, I came to give you your present," Thomas said instead of answering his question. Newt left his hand from the frame to clutch both of them at the sidelines of his trousers.

"I don't need any present, just tell me you forgave me," Newt could hear the urgency in his voice.

Thomas said nothing, just regarding him under his cameral eyes which were very dull at the dark this time. They had always been bright but now they were just a pair of opaque eyes. The stillness descended on them. Newt felt his anticipation for the answer rising in his chest, threatening to seize it.

He jumped out when Thomas suddenly reached up. It took him a long moment to realize what Thomas was doing. Thomas was putting the chain on Newt's neck, his hands brushing Newt's hair lightly. Newt reflexly tore his eyes off Thomas and looked down at his chest to find out what it was.

"Bright blue feather," Newt asked, puzzled. "Is it your only down feather?"

Thomas just nodded and withdrew his hands.

Newt knew how much it meant when a Darkor gave someone his down feather, the last down feather that was left young after all the others had grown up. It always had the lighter color, because their ancestor had been a fallen angel, and there was still angel blood running in Darkors' vein. It was told generation to generation. And that only down feather meant as much as touching wings custom of Lightors. It was symbolized for respect, and trust, and love.

And Newt—

"I can't take it," Newt said but still found himself lift a hand to touch the small and elegant feather. It was damped yet soft and smooth. The bright color almost lit up in the darkness. "A Darkor has only one in the rest of his whole life."

Newt didn't deserve it.

Thomas looked at him wordlessly for another long moment. Then he brought one of his hands up, his face wrinkle like he was in pain, and curled his fingers through Newt's hair. As if he couldn't help it. Unconsciously, Newt leaned into the touch, eyes already drifting shut.

Finally, Thomas said, his voice wistful, as though he was gonna say goodbye. What he said next took Newt by surprise. And Newt could feel his relief and his lips twitch up into a smile.

"And there's also one you in my whole life," Thomas said slowly, every word emphasized with a rub of his thumb on Newt head.

Newt exhaled, eyes opening to meet Thomas' ones. "Can I take that as the forgiveness, I know that I did you wrong, I—"

"Newt, it just—it didn't work and it won't work for us. What future holds for us if you keep hiding," said Thomas, and Newt found himself flinch. In the briefest moment, he had thought everything would be alright between them. "I was wondering if you had ever been to Narnia."

"Give me a chance," Newt said, reaching up to curl his hand over Thomas' one, intertwining them, his hair tangled through their fingers.

"There had been a lot of chances for you," said Thomas, and withdrew his hand, sliding it out of Newt's hold. Newt's hand reflexly chased after it, but it halted in middle air again, in the small gap but like thousands miles between them. Thomas continued, "but you didn't grasp any of it for once."

Newt protested. "I would have come out to my family yesterday if it hadn't been for the form, I would have—" And cut himself off. He dropped his hand, clutching it at the side of his pants again.

"But you didn't," Thomas finished his sentence, fury and accusatory clear in his voice. But the anguish in his expression was more heartbroken than anything else. "So that did not change anything."

"Are we—are you breaking up with me?" Newt asked helplessly even when he didn't want to hear the answer.

"It's over, Newt," Thomas said, voice suddenly turning into coldness. His eyes were untouchable.

Newt felt the air drained out of his lungs.

"You can't just give me your precious thing then freaking dump me," Newt whined, weakly. His legs were about to give out. "You can't—"

"Let us just think that I gave up on two precious things today," Thomas said, turning his head away to deny Newt his face.

"Tommy, please."

"Goodbye, Newt." Thomas said it without looking at him even then as if he couldn't bare any moment of ending this conversation. Yet his wings started to spread. And unthinkingly, Newt reached out and grabbed at his collar.

"Kiss me," Newt said, hopelessly, and heard his voice sound raw and fractured. The plea shattered into pieces of desperation. "The last one."

Thomas looked at him then. It felt like Newt's last request ailed him. He just stayed still, raindrops flecking his long eyelashes. Under them were a pair of dark brown eyes, watery and sorrowful. Newt heard a choked sound before a hold of hands was on his head.

Thomas kissed him. Rainwater betweens their lips. The kiss was cold and wet.

Thomas always put his emotions into kisses. There was never a faked thing in it. And the kiss between them now was one of the saddest things Newt had ever got a taste. Yet he still wanted to taste him for ever, he didn't want to lose him. His grip on Thomas shirt was tightened. Newt tried to cling to him, tried to hold onto him, like he always did. He had said it was the last one, but he just couldn't let it be. He couldn't let Thomas go. 

Thomas seemed like he couldn't control himself either. He slid one hand to take a hold of Newt's nape, the other tugging the hair in the back of Newt head. The kiss deepened in desperation as Newt reached his hand from Thomas' shirt higher until it was rest on Thomas' cheek. He tried to feel the warmth of his skin, to breath him in deeply like he would never have a chance anymore. Newt knew he would never have. There was no sexual feeling in it, but only the shooting pain of a goodbye.

And then there was a strange drop of water. In the briefest second Newt had thought it was another rain drop slipping into their lips until he felt the warmth of it. Reflexly he opened his eyes, but like a dream that everything would varnish when he woke up, Thomas' lips were gone, his hold on Newt's head was far away, and all that was in front of him now was the empty balcony, the pouring rain, and the salty taste of Thomas' tear on his lips.

Newt blinked. And another warm drop fell down.

~~~~~~~~

"Is Thomas home?"

"He told me to tell people that he was not home."

Thomas was woken to the muffled exchange between his friends from the front door. Forcing his eyes to open, Thomas pushed himself up on the bed and squinted through the window. The sun was falling below the horizon, and Thomas didn't realize that he had slept for almost half a day after having a cursory breakfast in a hideous outfit which was a wrinkled tank top and a pair of equally wrinkled shorts. He even hadn't took a shower, luckily he wasn't stinky. Minho's mother had casted him a confused look and Minho had shook his head lightly at her, indicating that she shouldn't ask anything about Thomas' mood or his fashion sense.

The footsteps came closer and the door was opened. Thomas turned his gaze from the window to the soft click sound. Teresa was standing on the door line, with Minho scratching his head apologetically behind, and frowning at Thomas.

"I told you I'm not home," Thomas said, turning his gaze back to the window.

"You look like crap," commented Teresa before she darted towards his wardrobe and casually picked up some clothes. After some annoyed huff, she finally succeeded in choosing a decent outfit which had her favorite color, stark white, really?, and tossed them at Thomas' lap.

"What else should I look like then?" Thomas snapped, but struggled to pull down his tank top and his shorts with his sitting position anyways until they reached his ankles and kicked them down onto the floor.

"I'm heartbroken. Should I wear like a model?" He kept talking while putting on a pair of new-washed sweatpants as Teresa did the button behind the back of a nice-smelled T-shirt. Thomas even wasn't sure if it was appropriate to call it a T-shirt when there was a line of buttons on its back. Wings sometimes made things inconvenient. Perhaps human should turn back to the fashion in which garments or chitons were trendy like the old days.

"I would say you were a heartbreaker in this case," said Minho. He was retrieving Thomas discarded clothes from the floor and threw them with preciseness into the basket.

"You broke up with Newt?" Teresa asked, her voice hitched up it almost rang in his ears.

"He dumped him right on his damned birthday," Minho informed, and there was an edge of anger to his voice.

And now the two of them stood in front of him with accusing expressions. Thomas looked up at them from where he sat on the bed, unfazed. Or at least it was the expression he was trying to put on his face.

"That's the reason why you skipped school today?" Teresa asked, her hands flying upwards with her groan. "The office said they would suspend you if you kept skipping classes without permission."

Thomas found himself snapping back instantly, and still tasted the bitterness on his tongue. "They still want to punish me even when I'm not dating their friends's son anymore?"

"That's not what I'm talking about. Do you know that Newt avoided talking with me in our math class?" Teresa shook her head and started to cross her arms over her chest. She looked like an angry mother trying to punish her son for breaking a glass vase which was Newt in this case.

"He's trying to shoot everyone out of his life just like what you are doing now," Minho added helpfully, as if Thomas cared.

"I don't care. Could you two get out?" Thomas said and he knew he was lying. He cared, but there was nothing to do with it, not anymore.

"Thomas," Minho said. "Have you ever thought through about it? You kicked Newt's ass so sudden he even didn't prepare himself for it. What even got into you?"

At that Thomas found himself shooting up to his feet, his friends taking an instinct step back as he took a predatorial step toward them.

"You're asking what got into me?" Thomas bursted. "Our relationship was going nowhere if it were kept a secret forever."

"Thomas, calm down," Teresa said as she lifted her palms towards him in chest level. Minho looked slightly outrage. Thomas knew Minho was his good friend, but he was Newt's best friend. It was very understandable for him to feel annoyed at the one who broke up with his best friend.

"You should have at least given him some time," Minho said in steady voice, as if trying to suppress his anger. "Not every family is acceptant like yours."

"I know," Thomas said, rubbing his face wearily. "That's why I broke up with him as soon as possible, before it could hurt both of us more. You saw what they did, Minho. His family would never accept me or even accept him when they found out that their son was dating a guy. You thought I would let him be kicked out of his house?"

"Thomas—" Minho said, but Thomas cut him off.

"Either way, he would get hurt. But having a secret relationship with me in which he felt guilty about both his family and me at the same time would be more painful."

"You were forcing him to choose between his family and you, you know?"

"I helped him choose his family in an easier way. That's why I broke up with him."

Minho glared at him at that, and a second later he stormed out of the room. In one moment his anger was so visible that Thomas had thought Minho would punch him in the face, which he thought he deserved.

Teresa stepped a pace closer to him and rested her small elegant-fingered hand on his shoulder. Her expression was full of anxiety when she said.

"Thomas, you are crying."

Thomas couldn't keep his body in check and pretend to be strong anymore. He let himsel fall into her comforting embrace. Teresa hugged him and padded his back soothingly.

"I'm still in love with him," Thomas sobbed. And the words instilled him with the pain he had never thought existed. He could feel his tears and snivel begin to soak the shoulder of her uniform shirt. "And it feels so bad having to leave him. But I couldn't look at him anymore when he always looked back at me with guilt in his eyes. It was so wrong to have that expression on that sort of angelic face."

Teresa rubbed his back up and down gently. "Sh, sh, don't cry."

"But I can't stop thinking about him either," Thomas gasped. The words just spilled out of his mouth, unchecked. "It's so much I can't even feel like breathing."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really want to but can't tell what is coming. But there is a little more pain, of course. Physical pain? Emotional pain? Or good pain? Idk, I can't tell because I'm a horrible person...


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are many assumptions that Mark and Trina (The kill order) were Thomas' parents, so I'd see them as his parents in this story too.  
> I'm so so happy for Thomas because he has a lot of people around him in this story, and feel sorry for Newt. But it'll get better I think!  
> And Oh my Goodness, I love you guys so much for all of your supports. Real life is making it hard for me to write but I'm trying because you deserve everything good from me<3333
> 
>  
> 
> ~~~  
> Enjoy, loves! And hope this chapter will help mend your broken hearts!!!

"Thomas, just go home, it's 9 o'clock," Thomas' coach called him from the bellow while Thomas shot through the air.

"Yes, a minute," shouted Thomas back down. But it was actually a lie. Thomas thought he wouldn't leave the field just yet.

Over half of the floodlights were turned off after the coach left the field. But Thomas couldn't care less. He didn't need light right now. All he needed was to drown himself in the physicals, so he could, even for a moment, forget all that he felt.

Thomas had broken up with Newt for three days, and he felt like it had been three years. Time felt so dragging like chains. He had thought he would be able to get rid of their memories by now, like he had always with his exes. But every time they met in the hall way, he felt his stomach twisted into a tight knot. Newt—and some of his friends, how odd was that?—had sent him so many texts that his box was full. But when they faced each other, Newt seemed afraid to look him in the eyes with black shadow tugged under. Thomas wanted to reach out to him, so badly. He would have, if it hadn't been for Teresa trying to yank him away. Not that Teresa didn't want them to get back together. But Thomas had pathetically begged her to remind him any time he wanted to text back to Newt that they weren't dating anymore.

"But you're still friends," Teresa had reasoned, at which Thomas had just shook his head.

In the back of his mind, he knew they were even more than that, they were still bio partners. And there was still one Bio class left. And it only made things worse. Damn. Thomas had even done what he was going to share to the class before they broke up. He had thought he would give Newt a surprise that would make his adorable rosy mouth drop. Now it was kinda awkward to show it.

Flying up into a higher layer of air, Thomas tried to push all the thoughts about Newt out of his mind. He had final exams in the next two weeks, which he wasn't sure he could pass all of them with his head throbbing like now—

—and a competition which would be happening tomorrow.

Their school would be the host this year, which was an advantage. All the team members had took a rest today for the race tomorrow. While Thomas pushed himself to the limitation of his physics, trying to remember all the feelings of himself in every turn of the field. If he turned properly and precisely in the race, his speed would be enhanced. This years there were many sponsors from one of the best universities coming to watch and give the champion scholarships. It would be so much Thomas could do to help his family financial issues .

But he had been practicing for almost three hours with only two short breaks, his throat began to dry and he would have no strength remain for tomorrow if he didn't stop now. Shooting up to the sky where the cool clouds almost touched his scalp, Thomas folded his wings and began to fall with gravity.

The winds passed his body from feet to head, the speed of falling was giddy yet refreshing. For a moment Thomas just let his mind filled with the blow of breezes, the lashing sounds and tried to forget the existence of his heart. He knew he would have to spread his wings soon, but for now he let his body relaxed totally.

He landed with soft grass under his feet, on where Newt had gave him a shy smile at the beginning of the semester.

_Thomas misses him._

~~~~~~~~~

"Thomas!"

Thomas got into his room with the greet from his little brother Chuck. Chuck asked him to come and stay over so he could come with Thomas to the competition tomorrow. His parents had told him to stay home and three of them would drive here at the first light but Chuck was so spoiled. Thomas was happy that he was here right now though. At least it could make him feel less alone. The curls of his brunette hair tickled Thomas' collarbones as he hugged the hell out of Thomas.

"What took you so long? We've waited for you for hours." Chuck grumbled as he smacked Thomas' chest.

"Oh, really?" Thomas rubbed at the place where Chuck had just hit him, feigning a wince of hurt. "As I can see, you have ordered Chinese food enough for four people and somehow eaten all up," said Thomas, and pointed at the trash in the corner of his room. Why Chuck didn't learn any good habit from him?

"I ordered one for you, too. It's in the fridge." Chuck looked sulky at that like he had just been blamed for something he hadn't done. "And I didn't eat all alone, there was—"

"Even with Minho you two couldn't eat that much," Thomas cut Chuck off.

"Newt I mean, Minho is out with his mother preparing for tomorrow of sorts," Chuck finished.

"What?"

"I called him by your phone, you forgot it home," said the short boy as he dug the phone out from his pocket.

"Newt came?"

"Of course he came. He couldn't let me alone. He seemed tentative at first though."

"Where's he now?"

"Something wrong with you guys?" Chuck asked instead of answering his question. Thomas' expression must have given something away.

Thomas blinked down at his brother at that. Only until then that he realized that Chuck still didn't know they had broken up. He was still struggling in his head whether or not he should tell him about it when a soft click sounded behind his back. Thomas turned and saw Newt.

Newt stopped short at the door line and looked at Thomas with wide eyes. His hands were marked with some drops so he must have just got out of the toilet.

"Oh," said Newt, eventually, after a very long moment of silence. "You came home."

"Yeah, uh, practice stuff you know," he said awkwardly and stepped aside a little for Newt to get in. He wasn't sure if Newt took that as a hint that Thomas invited him to come back to his room.

"Oh," Newt repeated his word, even more awkwardly than Thomas. "You're here. So I—uh—I should get home."

Clearly Newt didn't take the hint.

Chuck pushed pass him to approach Newt, who was still on the door line, one of his hand fondling the knob gawkily.

"Stay," Chuck said kittenishly as he grabbed Newt's elbow and pulled him in. "You promised to teach me to draw a dinosaur."

"Maybe another day, Chuck," Newt said, bent down to Chuck's face level and gave him an apologetical nod.

"Oh, come on. I won't judge if you two kiss behind my back, or even before me," Chuck said, but his grimacing face told Thomas that he would judge if they kissed in front of his face.

"Stay," Thomas found himself say. "For Chuck."

Newt hesitated for a moment in which he didn't look at Thomas' eyes again. Then he nodded and let Chuck pulled him down to sit on the floor. Chuck picked his way to Thomas' desk in excitement and grabbed his pencil case and some paper sheets.

Thomas forced his eyes to tear away from the two of them and made his way downstairs to get the food in the fridge. Thomas would never admit that he felt quite impatient for the microwave to finish heating up his meal. He hadn't thought about this situation before. He hadn't thought about what he should behave in front of other people with Newt around. He had never felt this wobbly. He really had no idea what to do when he faced Newt, yet he wanted to fly upstairs right there and then and be in the same room with him, to breath in the same air and to share the same proximity.

The Ping sound almost made Thomas slop the orange juice in the box over his tank top.

_Thomas, put the damned grip on yourself._

When he entered the room again, with a small smile tugging on his always pinky lips, Newt was watching Chuck mercilessly grinding the color pencil on the paper sheet with the scraping sound so loud that Thomas bet the sheet would be torn sooner or later.

"I don't think your dinosaur wanted the word Swag tattooed on his butt, Chuck," Newt chuckled when Thomas deliberately chose his way to the bed without stamping on Newt's long wings—which he was still smitten with by the way.

Thomas sat on the bed, enjoying his meal, as he watched the two of them talking animatedly about Pokemon Go. Thomas knew Newt didn't play it—Thomas doubted he played anything for that matter—but he still listened intensely to the list of all the Pokemon that Chuck had found and was rambling about.

Thomas thought about how thing would have been between them. Or would be if they hadn't broken up. He imagined his small family with Newt in it. And Chuck. And maybe their adopted children for Chuck would get married someday, which Thomas totally didn't wanna think about. It felt like time flew too fast. Yet he wanted to have his own family someday. In the back of his mind he knew it was too soon to think about it. And too impossible to create the future with Newt in it.

The list Chuck was ranting was suddenly interrupted by a long and heavy yawn. And Chuck unconcernedly settled down onto Newt's lap and slowly closed his eyes with one of Newt's thigh pillowing his head. Newt seemed surprised at the action but he remained unmoving, perhaps fearing his movement would wake the boy. He looked up from where he sat at Thomas with disconcerted eyes, asking for help.

Thomas silently put the Chinese food box onto the bedside table and climbed out of his bed. He bent down and poked slightly at Chuck's armpit to check if he was really sleeping. Chuck often pretended to sleep so Thomas would have to scoop him up and bring him to bed. Luckily Chuck was ticklish like, a light poke could break him up straight away. This time the boy lay totally still over the touch, even starting to snore.

Sighing, Thomas put all his little remaining strength to pick Chuck up onto his arms and chest and made his way, with difficulty, to the bed and put the drowsy boy down gently. Newt covered him with a thin blanket after Chuck curled himself on his stomach, his short wings folded neatly.

Thomas stared down at his brother for a moment, wondering if he had brushed his teeth, then glanced up to look at the blonde boy. Newt's eyes were fixed on him, but they averted immediately when he realized he had been caught by Thomas. But they turned back to land on him again, and went wide as if the owner seemed surprised at his own gaze's gravitation.

Thomas nodded at the door, and Newt nodded at him in understanding. They picked their way wordlessly out of the room.

"Chuck called me and I thought it was you," Newt mumbled after Thomas closed the door behind them. Chuck had totally been deep in his sleep, safe and sound.

"Sorry if Chuck bothered you. You didn't have to come."

"No, it's fine," Newt shook his head and turned silent for a second, and two. He seemed to struggle with words. "It's just—I think I'm the one who should say sorry. The texts—there will be no more. I'm sorry for bothering you." His cheeks began to be tinted with sheepishness.

Thomas didn't want him to say sorry about it. It was not an abnormal and embarrassing thing texting the one who kicked you so ruthlessly like Thomas had done him. But Newt was right that the texts should be stopped. It would be better for both of them.

But Thomas knew he shouldn't say all of those things. Or should he? Because it was Newt's first ever breakup. It would be good for him to know as not to feel his self-esteem lower but at the same time it would do bad for him if he texted his next ex-boyfriends after breakups. Not that Thomas hoped he would have to suffer any breakups in the future though. But not every guy was nice like Thomas was, he had to admit it. And Thomas even wasn't sure if Newt would ever decide to let himself have any boyfriends again after all of this shit. "Let me take you to the main door," Thomas found himself said instead, hoping to change the subject.

"No, you don't have to." Newt shook his head again, this time more forcefully. "Minho just gave me a spare key, I think I can walk myself out."

"It's okay, I have to grab some juice downstairs anyway," said Thomas and stepped forwards, in which Newt reacted by a step backwards. As if he couldn't bear being closer to Thomas.

"No, I mean no. I mean I don't want you to," Newt said, determined. Perhaps he saw the confusion in Thomas' eyes for he decided to elaborate. "There're so many memories there that I think, I think I couldn't stop myself from—" Newt said but cut him off, and turned his face to one side.

Thomas could feel his words digging a hole in his chest for he felt the same way. But he knew better than to tell Newt that. Thomas shouldn't say anything that could deepen their remaining feelings and sharpen their pain. He decided to stay silent. He really wasn't sure if he was expecting for Newt to continue his talk or it would be hung between them just like that.

Finally Newt turned in the staircase's direction. Thomas stood at his room door and watched Newt make his way to it. He couldn't help but raise his voice again when Newt reached the first flight.

"The competition tomorrow—" Thomas hesitated. But Newt seemed to understand what he was meaning.

"I'll come," Newt turned his head slightly and said, his hand on the railing. "For my brother."

It seemed like Newt said his last words with purpose. But Thomas, despite the knot in his chest, felt glad that Newt had more or less tried to get on well with his family, or at least Gally.

"Yeah," Thomas kept his voice even and added his sincere tone into it as he amended. "I hope he will do well."

Newt turned his head more around to look at him then. He gave him a smile, and his whole figure seemed to relax a little. "You too, Tommy."

_Thomas nods and smiles back at him._

~~~~~~~~~

Thomas knew it, he knew it he would have to lie on the floor tonight. The bed was huge, king-sized even, but Chuck, despite his not quite tall body, was lying haphazardly on it with all arms and legs flung outwards.

And Thomas knew he had to get some sleep, even with the solid wood floor underneath him and Newt's imagines in his sorry head. The competition would be happening in some hours.

If it were any other nights this week, Thomas couldn't have felt sleepy at this point. But this time he felt like he was gonna drift off in any second. Not that he felt sleepy, but he did feel tired, exhaustion slowly claiming him. Three hours of solid practice not only helped him with skills and speed but also with sleep.

Thomas groped around for the blanket he had tossed onto the floor earlier and instead found a small and soft thing. He picked it up and lifted it higher so the moonlight could help him make out the thing. It was Newt's feather. The knot in his chest was tightened at the thought of Newt with so much stress and depression to the extent that his wings began to shed feathers.

Thomas ran a fingertip over the elegant pale feather then unconsciously brought it closer to his lips.

_Thomas thinks he can have a good sleep tonight._

~~~~~~~~~

The whole school was in joy since the competition was held on Saturday, which meant all the students would be off from class. The school yard was filled with colors of all the students from five schools that attended this years. Posters, banner, long-legged cheerleaders, everything looked like a seasonal festival.

The first teammate Thomas and Minho saw in the locker room the next morning was no one else but Gally. Gally was their leader in practice, but also the leader of grade 12 in this competition this year. Of course he was.

Thomas didn't hate Gally, but had no positive feelings for that guy either. Yet Thomas had to admit that Gally was a great and competitive leader. He worked hard and laboriously, and Thomas was told that Gally had never lost any game.

Coach had picked up the best four students from each grade, so there would be twelve members in his school's team. Although they practiced together, they would compete separately. The rules for each grade were the same, but the altitudes were different with a quite big gap. The higher the competitors flew, the more difficult they would feel.

It was a relay competition. Thomas would be in the last position, and so was Gally. Somehow he felt they shared some kind of same pressure.

Gally gave him a glare when he looked up from his newly armed knees and caught Thomas staring at him.

"What are you looking at?" Gally said and smirked, "your love for my brother being unrequited wasn't my fault."

Thomas narrowed his eyes at him but didn't reply. Instead he found himself wondering why there was nothing to protect wings while elbows and knees were armed with thick pads, heads with helmets. Flying athletic was undoubtedly a dangerous sport. With any fall, from any height, there was a high chance that the athletes would end up in emergency room. Bruises and scrapes would be inevitable. Broken bones and sprains could lead to the injures following the competitors for the rest of their life. Not to mention wings injures. Yet there was nothing to protect them while they were the most fragile part of the body.

The pads Minho tossed at him pulled Thomas out of his contemplation. He sat down on the other end of the long bench which Gally was seated and began to wear the pads on one of his knee. When he was almost done with every parts, Gally rose to his feet and stretched. Thomas looked up at him from where he sat and saw Gally give him a last glare before striding out of the room.

"I will beat you this year, son of the bitch" was the first thing Thomas heard when he stepped out of the locker room.

Gally and one of his loyal disciplines were confronted with two boys in red uniform. They must be one of their opponents.

Gally growled back at the one who had just insulted him. "I can be impossibly defeated in field. And I will beat you up after the race, shuck face."

Minho yanked him away from the quarrel. "Do not mind them. They have been this ill-mannered to each other since forever. Gally has earned himself quite a lot of enemies."

It was a good thing that things were alright between him and Minho now after his breakup with Newt. Thomas wasn't sure whether he could feel enough confident if Minho hadn't been here to support him.

"Grade 10 competitors will be in the first racing track, grade 11 the second track, grade 12 the third track. The later track is higher 200 feet than the track before it. Any competitor who fly lower or higher 50 feet than their track line will be sent off..." The umpire announced the rules as Thomas and his three teammate stood in line and held each others' hands, praying. Even though they had different kinds of praying, but they all prayed for the same thing: victory. Thomas also prayed for safety, for all of them. All of his teams and other schools' teams.

Before he took the flight to his track, Thomas turned to the spectator area and found his family waving spiritually at him. Teresa and Chuck were screaming with a huge banner above their heads with Thomas' name on it. Such huge fans.

Thomas smiled at them and to himself. 

When he took a flight to his position, he passed the higher rows of spectators whose children or friends were in grade 12 teams. Thomas let his eyes travel around quickly and caught the sight of Newt's family. His parents still kept their expression stern even in this sort of circumstance, which Thomas had to admire them for not being influenced by others' shouts and screams and cheers.

Newt met his eyes.

The field went completely quiet in Thomas' head as Newt kept his gaze on him. And the boy gave him a light nod and a discreet thum-up.

Thomas felt wild and fierce. He felt like he could win anything with the confidence that his family and Newt gave him.

The moment in which Thomas waited for Minho to carry the bar for him seemed like eternity. He pushed the shouts from the spectators out of his mind and concentrated on only one thing: the moment Minho passed him the bar.

At last, it came. Minho was approaching him with impressive speed, he was only 30 feet away from Thomas. Thomas turned his head to look straight forwards—look at the path leading to his team's victory. He turned sideways with exact degree and brought his right hand backwards. His wings flapped lightly and steadily to keep him in position.

Finally, finally, the bar touched his palm. Thomas grasped it with preciseness and leapt forwards. He sheared through the air with his maximum speed, and felt his body and his wings become one—a vigorous rhyme. How much he had poured himself in practice, how many times he had pushed himself to his limitation to have this moment. And it was all worth. Thomas had never felt alive like this before. The race of his blood, the pound of his heart, every nerve in his body became a vital resonance.

Every turn, every feeling was carved in his mind. And there was one last turn, with no competitor around him, he had headed off them with a considerable distance. All he needed right now was to lower his speed to the proper extent and take the last turn without losing balance.

The finish of the race was looming up in his view. Thomas would reach it in no time. He could already feel the burst of championship in his chest. Victory, and scholarships would be for his team. And safety. They were all safe.

By now.

Thomas heard it before he saw it.

The scream _'NO'_ like thunder struck through the sky. Thomas automatically changed the angle of his wings to be higher as to increase drag to slow his forward moment. His whole body was skidded to the halt by it all at once. The voice was painfully familiar. Thomas found his eyes immediately shot to where the owner of it was sitting in the spectator area.

He saw Newt's expression twisted into horror, the boy had already pounced to his feet and ran towards the railing surrounding the area. Thomas could see how much despair in Newt's eyes. And he reflexly followed his gaze to find what was making Newt this scared.

And he found Gally. Gally was falling. He was clutching at his left shoulder and struggling in the air. His body was pulled down with gravity. The rescuer would never make it in time for Gally. He had already been in the lower height than Thomas and the person who was nearest to Gally was him.

Without thinking much, Thomas spun his body around and shot himself towards Gally, who was now falling lower and lower. The weight of Gally's body made him fall faster than Thomas' did him. If Thomas spread his wings to fly downwards right now, the drag which pushed at his wings from below would slow down his fall. Without any other choices, Thomas folded his wings and headed downwards with the hope that he could get Gally in time.

"Gally, take my hand," Thomas screamed in the air. He extended his arms towards Gally when they were few feet apart. Thomas looked down briefly and realized that the distance between the ground and them was so small that even with one more moment of hesitation, the monument would hardly enough for him to leap and fly up again. And the height level in midair they were on was menacingly dropping.

Gally, after a split second of stubbornness, reached out to him.

Thomas managed to quickly grasp at Gally's outstretched arm to pull him closer and pressed him hard against him. Gally's wings were only a twitching mess, the injure in his shoulder had affected them badly.

Thomas wounded his arms around Gally's beefy body as the blonde clung to him with his good arm around Thomas' neck. How much Thomas hated the idea of being this super duper close to Gally, he had to admit it was the only way to save both of their lives.

Only when Thomas totally held Gally tightly and steadily against him that he that he spread his wings and began to flap them. Thomas, for the first time in his life, thanked the many situations that had had him fly with someone holding on to his body. There had been Chuck and his neighborhood kids at his home village—those lazy monsters, and there had been Newt the one he never had chance to hold anymore. But nobody could compare to Gally—a man of substantial build—because he was obviously the most heavy of them all.

And Thomas had to thank the pressure exerted up by the air below them that pushed them up immediately when Thomas spread his wings in full length. Thomas flapped continuously until they reached the safe height. All the competitors and coaches were flying towards them. Thomas glided through the air with slower speed before he flew down and landed on the grass field.

The rescuers urgently caught Gally when the blonde slid his arm out of Thomas' neck and lay him with his stomach gently down onto a first-aid stretcher. Thomas stood still, breathing shallowly as he watched the rescuers carried Gally to the gate to get to the ambulance. All of a sudden he felt drained.

Gally's parents had flown down from the spectator area and was now on either side of the stretcher. That was the first time Thomas saw something emotional in their expression which was not only arrogant.

Thomas looked around and saw his family and friends flying towards him, anxiety clear on their faces. Thomas could see the rims of his mother's eyes reddening like she was about to cry.

And then he found a blonde boy running in his direction. But he wasn't sure if it was Newt because on spur of moment he felt lightheaded. The dizziness blurred his vision with yellow spots. A sudden cold sweat washed over his skin. Or even if it were really Newt, he wasn't sure whether Newt was running towards him or running after his family out of the gate, because then Thomas' knees buckled underneath him and he felt himself falling.

The oblivion claimed him.

~~~~~~~~~

_"Thomas practiced for almost four hours for the last three evenings. . ."_

_"He's barely slept well recently. . ."_

_"He carried a boy twice his weight. . ."_

_". . . a diagnosis that the boy passed out from exhaustion. . ."_

_"Is my son alright now, doctor. . ."_

_"Tommy. . ."_

"Don't move."

Thomas was woken to the heavy-accented voice that he had grown so familiar with for the past few months. The voice that he had fallen in love with. The voice brought authority, yet so gentle and pleasant. And always deep with care. Perhaps he was in one of his dreams, where that voice was the first sound he heard in the warm morning.

But something was wrong. The voice should say _'Good morning, I made you breakfast'_ with sweet tone and Thomas would smile and nod with his sleepy eyes even when he hated eating breakfast. But actually the voice was a choked sound, which was a bad sign. And Thomas was laying on the unfamiliarly rigid mattress that smelled like antiseptic which was a distinctive scent in hospitals.

Thomas refused to open his eyes. He could still see white spots through his eyelids so there was a high chance that his eyes would get burned under the too bright light.

Thomas pushed himself up, and he immediately regretted it. The ache spread throughout his body and he felt like he would rather sink himself into this horribly stiff mattress than to move again.

"I told you to stay still, you bloody idiot," said the voice again, more urgency in the tone this time, and with that was a firm hand lay on his chest, pushing him back down onto the bed.

There was only one person that used the word 'bloody' that Thomas knew. And that voice.

Thomas' eyes snapped open. White spots became larger and began to blur his vision. Thomas blinked repeatedly to get them away until everything came to sharpness. He turned his head to one side to take in the surroundings.

Thomas was indeed in hospital, given by the stark white room, the small window covered by a equally white curtain, the tub light that illuminated the pale yet bright light straight onto his face. And the fluid bag that was being hang on a bar above his head, the tube connected the bag with the needle protruded off his arm. For Goodness' sake, how bad his condition was that he had to have fluid transferred into his body.

Dismissing the tingling pain in his skin where his vein was stuck with the needle, Thomas turned his head onto other side and focused his gaze on the closer figure in front of him. The messy blonde hair, the small nose, those lightly-parted rosy lips, a pair of white wings with golden patterns with the same quality of messiness. And those dark brown eyes dwelled apprehensively on Thomas.

Newt was sitting next to the uncomfortably rigid bed Thomas was lying, one of his hand still on Thomas' chest. Thomas barely said anything before Newt leaned forwards and placed a soft kiss onto his temple. Thomas felt his body jerk lightly as a strand of Newt's hair grazed by his forehead. Newt abruptly pulled himself away. Thomas would faint again with his heart pounding like it was gonna break through his ribcage.

"I'm—" Newt said, shyness burning his cheeks, and clumsily withdrew his hand. "—sorry I couldn't help. My family steward often did it when I went down for a sick when I was small. She said it would make things better."

Thomas found himself speechless. Newt was a rational being. The restraint he put on himself was unbelievable. Newt kept everything and especially his body under control, yet when there were only Thomas and him alone, Newt acted upon his reflex more than his rational mind. And Thomas had been so proud of himself for being the only one who could do that to Newt.

"You parents and Chuck are outside talking with the doctor," Newt said and rose to his feet without any grace. The chair he had been seated staggered at the clumsy movement, as if about to fall. "I'll call them for you."

Despite the ugly ache in his shoulder, Thomas managed to reached out and grabbed at Newt's wrist before the boy could take another step away.

"Wait," said Thomas, his voice hoarse, stuck at his dry throat.

Newt hesitated for a moment before making himself sit down onto the chair. He yanked his wrist out of Thomas' grip, which Thomas almost choked at the dismissal, but only to pour Thomas a glass of water.

Newt offered it to Thomas, which he took with trembling hand. Right after Newt released his hold from the glass, he wrapped his other hand around Thomas' one and helped him lift the glass steadily up to his lips.

Thomas wasn't sure what he wanted to say because he had so many things to say. He had thought he had died and now he was still alive and Newt was right there before him. He wanted to confess how much he missed him and how much he wanted them to get back together. But he couldn't because he was the one who kicked Newt and he had to be tough and clear-cut.

Thomas asked instead after taking a huge gulf. "How long have I been sleeping?"

"Half a day, I believe," Newt said, and took the glass from Thomas' hand before putting it down onto the side table.

"So today is still Saturday? In the evening right now?"

"Yeah. No. I mean no. It's about 1 a.m on Sunday."

"This late? You should be at hom—"

"I'll leave soon."

Thomas couldn't help but ask. "Gally, is he okay?"

Newt idly rubbed his fingertips at where Thomas' hand had been around his wrist and looked down at it when he ranted, "Gally's getting better, he's left the hospital this afternoon. His wings have gotten back to normal by now. His sprained shoulder has been treated properly. He won't use his left arm for a week or two. But he's gonna be alright."

"What happened?" Thomas asked and Newt immediately looked of horror.

"The last turn," Newt said, his voice tremulous as he recalled the memory. "There were Gally and the boy in red uniforn in the last turn. But neither of them slowed down their speed. And the boy in red accidentally nudged Gally in the shoulder. And he—" Newt trailed off, his breathing shallow.

"It's alright now, Newt. Gally fell but he's alright now," Thomas said. He wanted to wrap his arms around Newt's figure but his body didn't allow him. Instead he put his hand on Newt's knee, trying to reassure him that it would never happen again.

"I know," Newt said. He looked into Thomas' eyes then, and he looked like he was about to cry. "But the distance had been so close that I couldn't help but think what if you had never made it in time—both of you and Gally would have—"

"But I did, I did make it in time, Newt," said Thomas. "And we're totally fine. We're alive. See?" Thomas lied about the 'totally' part but acted upon his words as he reached his arms headwards and stretched. And it was a huge mistake. Thomas bit the inside of his cheeks to refrain himself from groaning. He really didn't know if he was going to be fine. His whole body was aching when he did it, his head throbbing like a woodpecker laboriously doing its job. Yet suddenly Thomas was feeling like he was going to doze off right straight away. He felt his eyelids begin to drift shut against his will. The soporific would kick in in no time.

"You saved my brother," Newt said it like it was the strangest thing in the world. "You saved him even after all he had done."

Thomas put his last strength into patting Newt's knee and said before the darkness engulfed him again. "I saved my teammate."

_"I wanted to say thank you. . ."_

The next time he woke up from an absolute chaos.

The curtain had been pulled aside to reveal the clear sky. The sunlight beamed violently onto his face. Thomas had to narrow his eyes to let his eyelashes shadow his irises. His body now was less aching than the last time he woke up, which he took as a good sign, but his head was still like in hell. But the true chaos was not the light or his physical condition. It was his family.

Thomas' parents were arguing about whether he should leave the hospital today or tomorrow. Both of them possessed high and loud voices, arms flinging outwards expressively.

"Mark, I couldn't leave Thomas sleeping on that bed for another night," Trina—his mother—said, which Thomas had to silently agree with her. If it hadn't been the exhaustion pained him, it was definitely the mattress that killed him right now.

"He needs to stay and have the doctor check for the last time to make sure that—" His father reasoned but being cut off by Trina. Thomas believed that he inherited this habit of interrupting others' talk from his mother.

"We'll have the last check tomorrow's morning," Trina said, determination in her eyes.

This debate would go to nowhere, Thomas knew, until the doctor settled on the last decision himself.

So Thomas let his eyes travel to the other war in the room.

"Thomas will crave for pizza when he wakes up," Minho said, and only then that Thomas realized that no one here realized that he had actually awaken.

"He loves cupcakes. They'll be the first thing he begs for when he opens his eyes," Chuck argued and ran his plump-fingered hands frantically through his curly messy hair.

"You're the one who loves cupcakes, Chuck," Minho said, his arms folding across his chest and one of his feet stamping on the pale-blue-titled floor. "And no one eats cupcakes when they have just left the hospital."

At that both of Thomas' parents turned towards them and shouted, "Thomas will eat neither cupcakes nor pizzas after leaving hospital—"

"Today," his mother finished.

"Tomorrow," his father said simultaneously.

"You wake?" Teresa's voice asked, and only then that Thomas realized she was sitting on the other side of the bed.

"Teresa," Thomas breathed out. His throat burned but he fought against it. All of them lunged towards his bed in no time when they heard his voice. Thomas said when he finally earned all the attention. "Guys. I'll leave today and I'll eat two double-pepperoni cheese pizzas so please quiet down."

Of course they would not quiet down at Thomas' demand.

"See? I told ya!" Minho smirked at Chuck before putting his phone on his ear and ordering the pizzas.

"I'll talk to the doctor to get the leave," his mother said before hastily darting out of the room before his father could stop her.

Mark and Chuck somehow found each other in the loosing battle and put one arm around each other's shoulder, looking pathetically defeated.

"You should stay here until everything is checked, Thomas," his father convinced, anxiety clear in his eyes.

"What did the doctor say?" Thomas asked and felt extremely nervous. He hadn't thought he would break down from exhaustion in overpracticing and sleep deprivation before.

"You fainted and hit your face straight onto the ground," Mark said, rubbing at his temples wearily. Thomas could see that his hair had been marked with some more grey stand. He must have been so worried about Thomas' wellbeing, all of them must have been. "Luckily there's just an ugly scrape on your forehead. But you're not allowed to do heavy activities and practice flying fast for at least a month."

Thomas nodded wordlessly. A month without racing was a small price to pay after all.

"Why do you want to leave today? It'd be more convenient if anything happened—"

"I have the last bio class tomorrow's afternoon," Thomas said and felt the smile tugging on his lips. "I don't want to miss it."

"Is it because of the plus mark?"

"I don't think Thomas has mind to care much about the mark and scholarships now, Mr. Mark. He decided to lose the championship right in the last moment," Minho chimed in as he finished his order, now came and stood next to Chuck and Thomas' father. "There was no champion this year. The committee has decided to re-organize the competition next month, but you have to skip it this season Thomas, for your health's sake."

"Sorry, guys," Thomas breathed out a laughter at that, because Minho didn't seemed angry or regretting.

"It's alright. You did the right thing. I can't be more proud of you, Thomas." Mark stepped closer to the bed and bent down a little to run his hand through Thomas' brunette hair. "You saved a life."

Thomas thought about Newt suffering his broken bone, living years of lacking the most natural instinct of their specie—flying. Thomas remembered him scared of leaving the solid surface, overprotecting what was left of his wings and hating himself for having fallen. Thomas imagined how pain he would have had to go through again if his brother had hit the ground like the day Newt had when he was younger, the terror in his face when he watched Gally with his close-call, powerless. Thomas realized he would rather get nothing than to see Newt broken again.

"You'll have to make up for it," Minho joked back with a playful slap onto Thomas' cheek, snapped him out of his thoughts.

"Is that you are indicating se—" Mark hesitated. "—something or just an inner joke?" Thomas' father asked, bewildered.

Minho looked aghast. "What? No. There's no such thing between us, Mr. Mark."

Thomas' father blinked confusedly at Minho the last time before turning his gaze back to Thomas, waiting for his answer.

"No, it's something more," said Thomas. He heard his voice soft. "I made a promise to someone."

"To Newt? The blonde boy with that fluffy yellow wings?" Mark asked, amusement in his expression.

"Yeah," Thomas said, then flabbergasted. "What? How did you know that was Newt? Chuck told you?"

"Told me what? The boy came to visit you yesterday. I heard you two talking from outside as well. Don't tell me the fall affected your brain or I have to tell the doctor—"

"Newt came? Was that real? I thought I was dreaming?"

"You have no idea how of a shattered piece of glass Newt looked when he stormed into this room after hearing of your condition," said Minho, shaking his head. "I should've called him ealier. He digged out the whole hospital to find your room when he could just call me to ask. In the middle of the night."

So the blonde boy on the field earlier wasn't Newt. But that didn't matter, for Newt had come to see him. Thomas felt an explore of affection in his chest.

"What is that boy Newt to Thomas?" Mark rubbed his chin in speculation.

"He is Thomas' ex-boyfriend," Teresa said and poured Thomas a glass of water then handed him. 

Thomas gratefully took it and downed in one breath when both his father and Chuck exclaimed. " _Ex??_ " Thomas wasn't sure if this room was soundproof or they would be definitely kicked out of the hospital for making noises.

"He's closeted," Thomas said shortly with a sardonic twist on his lips, and took another water glass from Teresa, trying to swallow down the ashy taste.

"Oh," Mark said in sympathetic voice and looked down at Thomas with tender eyes. "But he did seem nice."

"He _is_ nice," Thomas agreed. "But he's closeted."

"Thomas," said Mark and pulled a chair near him and sat down on it. He put his large hand on Thomas' shoulder. Then he exchanged some silent conversation with Chuck and somehow Chuck understood and pulled Minho—then Teresa—out of the room despite their protest.

Mark squeezed Thomas' shoulder lightly and began to say. "You couldn't take that as an excuse for yourself to leave him that selfishly. He will come out when he has enough trust from other people around him."

"His parents—" Thomas trailed off, thinking about what they had done to both of Newt and him. But he wasn't sure if he should tell his father about it. Instead he said, "you don't know them."

"I don't," Mark nodded at him, thoughtfully. There were deep lines around his eyes, holding a distinct touch of sadness. Mark just gazed down at Thomas for a very long moment that Thomas almost drifted back off to sleep. Mark said at last, "But I do know the feeling of powerlessness when parents realize someday their children will be grown up and leave their nest. And that is when they have no right to interfere the path that their children have chosen. If you think there is no future for you and Newt, it is not a right thing. At some point in his life, he will have to make his own decisions even if it means parting from his parents. You will too. So if you still love him, give him more trust." After a moment, Mark added, " _And time_."

Thomas blinked up at his father who had always seen him as a child who need to be in the embrace of his parents' protection. But now he was seeing Thomas as a truly grownup, talking to Thomas like a man to a man. Thomas never thought he would want to leave his parents. Yet his father had his point, someday he would have his own life and his own family, and when he had children he had to leave them having their own way. And then there were only one person still by his side till the end of the world—his beloved. It could be anyone, and it could be Newt.

"Are you copying Mom's thoughts?" Thomas asked instead, because voicing all his thoughts aloud made him find it harder not to cry in gratefulness at how much he loved his parents for their kindness and goodness.

"He is," Trina's voice said, and Thomas turned his head to find his mother already leaning her wings and back against the door with her arms crossed over her chest. A big smile was tugging on her lips proudly. "And your Dad was right. If Newt wants you back as much as you want him, you shouldn't lose him."

"But I don't know if he—"

His mother cut him off. "Why don't you find out tomorrow?"

Before Thomas could respond to it, Trina strode towards Mark and perked his cheek with triumphant glint in her eyes. "Now pack Thomas' stuff and go home. The doctor said we can leave."

At that Thomas' father just sighed in defeat. Minho would have to call back the pizza delivery to change the address. But Thomas couldn't care less, for he was going to escape the damned mattress now.

_And Thomas remembered back the spring night with Newt sitting on the pale blue titled floor on their balcony, legs crossed under him, scribbling something on a sketchbook, waiting for him. The orange light of the night-lamp from inside the bed room had made the boy look more golden, and warmer in the chilly air of February. Some stray locks of tumble blonde hair falling on his forehead, hiding some of the concentration in his expression._

_"What took you so long?" Newt had looked up at him through long eyelashes and asked, silently closing the sketchbook._

_Thomas would never admit to Newt how much time he had spent watching him drawing from the afar, or tell Newt that he had seen what he had been doodling on his sketch. Newt had seemed not to bother the answer either, for he had just hauled himself up to his feet with Thomas' extended hand and lunged forward to hug him. The sketchbook in his hand had been pressed tightly on the small curve of Thomas' back, which Thomas hadn't mind. The tumble blonde hair tickling Thomas' cheek._

_Thomas still remembered the apple scent of Newt's hair, the warmth radiating off of his chest against Thomas, the astonishment that had held him totally still for a second back then at the sudden action. And he still remembered Newt words murmured against his neck._

_"Happy Valentine's Day, Tommy!"_

_Thomas had thought Newt would say his apologies for not going out with him that day, but Newt didn't say anything else. And Thomas realized, for the first time, that Newt had enjoyed being in his arms without allowing anything—any thoughts and feelings of guilt—to ruin that moment._

_"You too, my Valentine!"_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll have to say thanks to my sister for stopping me letting Gally and Thomas hit the ground. I'd already written it and some scenes afterthat, but I changed in second thought. I may miss some details in the former version that I left someday, but no regrets.
> 
> And I wanted to make time longer between events, but shit, the characters would have to have summer break, and I couldn't lenghthen one semester into 7-8 months. Damn, we should ignore it, shouldn't we?? LoL...


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so so sorry for keeping this for so long.
> 
> ~~~  
> Enjoy, love!!

This was the last bio class and Newt felt that something was missing.

He shouldn't let himself expect that Thomas would come. Thomas must still be at home now. Minho had called him to tell him that Thomas had left the hospital so he must be convalescing until his condition got better. But deep inside Newt still hoped he would come. Not that he cared about the extra mark, he just wanted to see Thomas back to his healthy state. The last time he saw him, Thomas' skin had been colored with grey and he had lain still like a corpse. Minho was not here, either. Minho must be taking care of Thomas since his parents had to get back to work.

Newt felt a cold emptiness swallowing him.

All the students in Bio class were gathered in the sport field to show their achievements. His blood ran cold while standing there where his brother and Thomas had almost fallen onto the solid ground. He hastily pushed the thought out of his mind before it became unbearable.

"Alright," Mrs Chancellor clapped her hands together to get her students' attention. "Now each pair will in turn show our class your achievement. Any pair will get the extra mark, even if the thing you brought here sucks or not," she said and earned a string of laughters from the students.

The first pair came and stood in front of the class, each of them held a small weird-colored pill with their fingertips and the free hands held a bottle of water. Then they put the pills into their mouths with an exact same movement and took a sip of the water. When they swallowed down the pills, their bodies began to convulse, which Mrs. Chancellor almost called for emergency if it hadn't been for their laughters right after that. The other students laughed as well at how much the two of them had scared the hell out of their teacher.

The pair announced after the successful prank, "Lady and gentlemen, now, we will show you how the pills affect our flying speed. They will make us fly twice as fast as normal."

With that, they both leapt their feet, with the same exact movement again, and flew upwards.

Frankly, even Newt ran faster than they flew with those magical pills in their stomach. Only doping could enhance their performance, not that hideous rainbow sweet candies.

Of course every students refused to take the pills afterward, but Mrs. Chancellor had to reluctantly give them the extra mark anyway.

The next pair, Teresa and Brenda, were bizarrely shampooing their wings with a nice-scented pink liquid. They even brought a wireless dryer to dry up the feathers until their wings became fluffily bristled. Then they tied one of their ankles with thin ropes and handed it to two boys standing near Newt and whispered _'If we can't get down, pull the ropes'_. Newt felt horrified as much as those two boys' expression showed.

"This special shampoo will make your feathers lighter, thus, it will be easier to fly higher. Like a balloon," Brenda said then nodded at Teresa.

And indeed they flew upwards faster then they normal did, which earned them a string of applauses from the girls and whistles from all the boys. That was the moment they were still in their uniform skirts instead of gym uniforms. Fortunately, the ropes weren't in need this time.

The girls huddled together once the two of them landed on the ground to touch their feather with admiring _Aws_. They refused to use the magical shampoo though, because Brenda and Teresa' wings were over-fluffy in hideous way.

"So, the last pair, what've you got us, Newt?" Mrs. Chancellor asked after she wrote down the mark on her notebook for Teresa and Brenda, who were laboriously combing their wings to the normal state.

Newt took some small steps forwards until he was standing near enough for her to hear his mumble. "I have to say my apologies, Mrs. Chancellor." He fidgeted with his fingers when he saw her eyebrows drew together. "But Thomas—" 

"I'm here." Thomas' voice cut through the air. Newt abruptly trailed off his apology and spun his head around so fast he felt his neck throb. Newt found himself blinking rapidly, hardly able to quell his surprise joint with joyfulness.

Thomas was running toward them instead of flying, but he looked more of a living creature than when he had been in the hospital. His complex was paler than normal, but there was a light tint in his cheeks, perhaps the run did good to his blood cycle. Behind Thomas was Minho, who was also running. And they were carrying a leather bag that resembled a guitar bag, but bigger.

"Sorry for being late, Mrs. Chan—uh—" Thomas hesitated.

"Mrs. Chancellor," Minho finished it for him with an apologetical smile.

"Alright," Mrs. Chancellor nodded grudgingly, clearly a little bit pissed off at Thomas' mindlessness. "Show us what you've got."

Newt suddenly startled as he realized how long he had stood dead on his feet as Thomas and Minho were getting to him. When they stood in front of dumbfounded Newt, they put the bag down onto the ground with unexpected gentleness that Newt had never thought they had. And they opened it.

It was a huge and long strip of white feathers with a leather strap attached to one end of the strip. There was a small cotton pocket stuck at where the strip met the strap.

"Newt, turn around," Thomas said as he brought the strip out of the box and lifted it up. He was casting Newt an assuring smile but Newt couldn't help but feel the tendril of fear unfurling inside him.

"Wha—? Me?" Newt asked in shock, really didn't know what was going on. He looked at Thomas then Minho, who was nodding at him.

"Who else?" Thomas asked back, and Newt turned his gaze back to black-winged boy. His brows arched up as though he seemed surprised that his partner was not cooperating. Newt glanced sideways and saw Mrs. Chancellor tilt her head slightly, confused.

Newt grabbed at Thomas' elbow, trying to be as gentle as he could, and yanked Thomas away from the the rest of the class few steps away. "What are you going to do to my wings?" He hissed in quiet voice, even though he didn't mean to do it. It was not about genders or such anymore. It was his wings. His bloody wings. "You told me not to worry and now you are experimenting on my wings?"

Thomas' eyes went wide at that. And it was suddenly crossed Newt's mind how much his question affected Thomas. It felt like he was telling Thomas that he had no right to do anything to his wings—anymore. And perhaps Thomas also realized that they were nothing more than classmates now.

Few paces away, the class started to erupt in comments. Some of the boys began sneering at Thomas, making some remarks in contempt. Apparently they had been one of those students who had surrounded the two of them on the day the GBLT club was closed. And the girls began to squeal and praised in whispers at how of a hero Thomas had been when he saved Gally.

Thomas, with the strip still in his hands, ignored them. His smile had been obliterated by a serious purse of his lips. Then he opened his mouth and asked, his voice serious like his expression. "Newt, do you trust me?"

And for the first time, Newt answered without any further thoughts of consequences in his head. "Of course I do."

Newt could hear Thomas sigh in relief at that. "Listen," he was whispering, again, for Newt's sake. "I know I no longer have any rights to do anything to your wings. To you for that matter. But trust me on this one, because I only want to do the best for you."

Suddenly Newt felt overwhelmed. Thomas always wanted the best for him. He said it as if he hadn't left Newt with broken heart that day. "That's why you dumped me?" Newt couldn't help but ask, some annoyance to his voice. "For my best?"

Thomas' mouth was hanging open lightly at his question. Then he shook his head. "You know it's not the right place to talk about it here."

Newt swallowed. He had promised to Thomas and swore to himself that he would not talk about the lost relationship with Thomas anymore, but somehow he just couldn't let himself let Thomas go. He knew he was stupidly clingy and that Thomas would find him pathetic. Newt doubted there was anything remained of Thomas' feelings for him by now. Thomas saving Gally and what he was doing right now were just because Thomas found them his responsibilities, because Thomas was a man of goodwill, so that it had nothing to do with Newt. The thought that he was barely anything that mattered to Thomas made Newt feel a depressing hole spread under his feet.

He didn't know how much time had past until he finally succeeded in nodding his head. "Tell me about this—" he said, pointing at the strip with a weird movement of his fingers. "—this device."

Newt saw Thomas couldn't hide his grin. He licked his lips before he proudly informed Newt his new invention. "Alright. You see this feathers—"

"Yes, I can see. And don't tell me you slaughtered some cranes and plucked their feathers to do this," said Newt.

"What?" Thomas gaped. "No. Hell no. What type of man you think I am?"

"Tommy," Newt sighed as he shook his head. "I am nervous. I was just trying to calm my bloody nerves down."

Thomas blinked at Newt for a few times before he opened his mouth. But he shut it again, shaking his head. Newt thought he was about to say something which in second thought he decided the best not to. Instead he continued his talk about the feather strip. "This strip of artificial feathers will create a new layer as to change the drag and lift exerted by the air." Then he nodded his chin at the small pocket and said, "This pocket will put a little more weight into your center of gravity which is the place between your wings. But I put it a little inclined to your right broken wing as to get you a more perfect balance. All in all, get you balance you've lost."

"Will it work that way?" Newt asked dully.

"Technically, yes. But you have to find out yourself," Thomas answered with more dullness.

All Newt wanted to do was to flee, but found his body turning around nonetheless. Because there was no run-away now, right? Thinking about it, Newt realized how much effort Thomas had put into doing this, and how far they had come to this point where the only target was to help Newt fly. Newt couldn't let Thomas down, and let himself down.

He felt himself cold and paler with fear rather than flush with shyness when Thomas worked the strip on his wing. It was not light, quite heavy even, so Newt had to spread his wings and moved them back and forth to get used to the new weight and sensation.

He shooed the whisperings of other students away and paid all of his attention on what were behind his back.

Thomas came and stood in front of him. Then he put his hands on Newt's shoulders. Thomas nodded. "Now, fly."

"What? You don't fly with me?" Newt flabbergasted. He felt his body start quivering at the thought of flying alone in the air.

"Calm down, calm down," said Thomas, and gave him a bland smile. "Listen, you have to do it alone. They're your wings, you are the only one who can control them."

"But Tommy, I—" Newt began to protest.

"I can't fly with you this time." Thomas rubbed his eyes wearily. "My condition—"

"I know. I don't want you to risk for me, but if I fal—"

"You won't," said Thomas, and looked into Newt's eyes with the same encouraging gaze like when they had been together. "Believe in yourself, Newt. And the pain, I believe you can endure it." And then he reached up to close his hands around Newt's biceps and pulled him a little closer. His eyes locked with Newt's intensely. "You can do it."

When Thomas let off of him and stepped aside so that Newt was now facing a large empty space, Newt knew that he was going to do it, for real, and alone. Newt turned his head again to search for Thomas' encouragement the last time, but instead found himself staring into a pair of familiar eyes. Gally was seated on the first row in spectator area, one of his forearms resting on his thigh, leaning forward. The bandage on his left shoulder were now filled with some colorful doodles which were without doubt works of his friends and their highlighters.

The furrow of his brows was still visible on his grumpy face, but was adorned with a rigid smile, like he had to spend a lot of energy on smiling. Newt had barely saw Gally smile before.

And Gally gave him a nod.

Newt felt something burst inside him. Something that had been long buried and forgotten, and now emerged to the surface one more time. Strong and warm. And that was all it took for Newt to leap on his feet and he felt, for the first time in many years, believed.

It was not an easy course of action after all those years without it though. His feet left the ground, then hit it again after a second or two. He stumbled and staggered, again and again.

He knew how much ridiculous he was looking like, he was flouncing and tripping over his own feet. Snickers and mockery comments rang off the field. But Newt barely heard them because Thomas was running alongside him. His laugh and his supportive words poured into Newt's dizzied head.

_"Fly, Newt, fly."_

Newt flapped his wings repeatedly, the later he put more force and effort than the before. And eventually he took off after a long moment in which he had almost given up at some points. He could feel the dust and some grasses gush off the ground where the winds created from his wings blew onto.

Thomas' laugh was kept going but become smaller and smaller with each flap of his wings. He inclined his body a little to look down, and Thomas was now half his actually size. Newt hadn't realized that he had flown this high, couldn't believe that he could. The unfamiliar height made Newt feel groggy in midair, his wings kept twitching unruly. Fears again began to cloud his mind and dull the connection between his brain and his body.

The only one who can control them.

"Breath, Newt, breath. Beat both of your wings at the same time."

Thomas might be shouting the most basic things as if Newt hadn't known it already. But he did listen to him and stop his wings from flapping disorderedly for a moment. Newt could feel air slid through his feathers when he held his wings spread. He drew in a deep calming breath before he moved them again.

 _'Beat them together,'_ Newt kept his mind replaying Thomas' words and shooing the fear of falling away.

And Newt was flying. Second by second, he felt the small pocket and the strip of feathers merged with his body, became a part of him. The twinge ache in his broken bone was overridden by the feeling of vitory. He no longer felt deficient. He felt whole. The cool breezes of early summer slipped through his clothes, cooling his burning skin. He glided through the sky, breathing in the fresh air. When he looked down again, his classmates were only several tiny dots.

Thomas had never seen anything like this. Lilting, and peaceful. Even though neither Newt's speed nor his grace were lusty like Gally's, his flight was still unearthly beautiful. While Gally was strong and intense with giddying speed and martial appearance, Newt were much lighter in any way as though his weight got nothing to do with gravity. When he completely got the balance, Newt flew like a leave floated down the tranquil river. 

The whole sky now was for Newt only. His long and exquisite wings looked like the only golden cloud in the flood of pale blue color. Thomas had never thought anyone could be that suitable for a clear summer sky. If there were anything that could be comparable to Newt, it would be the sun in dusk. Pale orange, and yellow, and golden.

Newt's laugh echoed the surroundings. Newt even screamed, which Thomas felt a little bit afraid for his euphoria.

"Great job, Thomas," Minho came standing next to him, clasping his shoulder.

"Yeah?" Thomas breathed out, and let out a hum sound in appreciation as he saw Newt flipped an overturn.

It was foreign, watching his brother fly. Gally had gotten used to see his brother walking, running, anything with his feet for the last four years. And now Newt was flying.

It was no one else but Gally who had witnessed his younger brother's fall that day.

It had been an early summer day, like today. Their parents had been abroad for business, like they always did. Gally had been leaning against the window flame, watching Mrs. Rose shovel earth and put it into the small pot in the garden. Far far away, on the other side of the field, his little brother, more chubby than now, with long curly blonde hair which Gally had swore to any holy beings up there that he would shave, was practicing flying. Gally should have never left him on his own.

Gally had never made it in time to his brother.

A small figure struggled in midair, screaming for helps. The distance between him and Gally had been so far. And the distance between him and the ground was so short.

He remembered watching Mrs. Rose's shaking hands press the number for emergency on her phone, her tears pouring out of her eyes like waterfall. He remembered Newt in his arms, face smeared with dust, eyes shutting closed, and laying motionless. It was the last feeling Gally wanted to have in his whole life.

Gally was seated on the bench, and all he wanted to do was to fly up there with his brother, in case the boy needed any help. But Gally also knew Newt should do it alone, feel it with his own body, much to Gally's concern.

But with many students and a teacher and Gally here, there would never be a fall, again. And there was also Thomas. That Darkor. He possessed so many good things in him that Gally doubted that he was even real. Not that Gally was jealous. 

But look at that brat! Good looking, average-shaped body, tantalizing wings were what the girls in school squealing about Thomas, not that Gally agreed with any of it. Thomas' eyebrows were no where near comparable to Gally's ones. But Gally had to admit that that little piece of shit was a great teammate, a great athlete in general.

And Gally was wondering why that sod—an idol of all the girls and even some of the boys in school—could be that head over heels for his younger brother. Not that Newt was undesirable since a brother of Gally could not be ugly. But bloody hell, Newt was bloody straight. Or frigid. Newt would never ever have any feelings for Thomas, that Gally was sure. But that prick—Thomas—seemed not to give up on his fanboying for Newt, which annoyed Gally beyond words that he could describe.

And, being a big brother, Gally had to show Thomas that his little brother would never return his feelings. Gally had no remorse for what he had done to Thomas. It was his job protecting his brother from what he didn't want.

But still, Gally did feel the need of being grateful that Thomas had saved his life. So maybe Gally would let Thomas be in his friendzone with Newt without doing any harm to his brother. Maybe Thomas was such a good friend that he accepted to only be friends with Newt just to see him happy.

And look at him! That chap was looking up at his brother with so much emotions in his eyes that Gally found him so pathetic watching the one who never loved him back.

"Newt, you're doing it great," Newt's bio teacher's call pulled Gally out of his contemplation. "But get down here so I can give you the plus mark." Gally was glad that finally someone asked his brother to get down. Seeing Newt fly pushed him over the edge.

When Newt landed, his grin was so broad that Gally feared it would crack his face into two. Both of his feet barely touched the ground that he stumbled forwards to run. To Thomas? Really?

"Oh my Gawk, Newt." Gally heard Thomas squealed like a fangirl even from where he was sitting as he ran towards Newt as well. "You did it, you did i—"

His exclaim was cut off as Newt literally hopped onto his body. Gally found himself jerk back reflexly at the sudden action. He could see Thomas stunned for a moment, as puzzled as Gally was. Thomas seemingly failed to register what Newt was doing until Newt's arms flung around his neck, his long legs wrapped themselves around his hips. Thomas looked like the impact almost knocked him to the ground. He swayed violently but at last succeed in steadying both of them by wounding his arms around Newt's waist.

What the hell is that? Is Newt that happy that he does such thing?

Thomas' face wrinkled a little, like he was in pain, but after a heartbeat Thomas started to spin around and around. Gally saw Newt throw his head back and burst out laughing. His blond hair streaming in every direction, disheveled. His figures relaxed all at once, eyes drifted shut, the crisp laugh mixed with Thomas' one and echoing the field. Gally had never seen his brother laugh in earnest and in such blissful joy.

Rising to his feet, Gally began to spread his wings. If his brother was that happy, at least Gally should tell him his congratulations, right?

_"FAGGOTS."_

The shout rang off the field right after Gally landed on his feet, along with it several gaping sounds mixed with laughters from other students.

Gally instinctively looked at where his brother was cheering his success and saw Newt go numb against Thomas immediately. The black-winged boy released his grip on Newt as the boy slid his arms off his neck, his expression uncharacteristically diffident.

They turned to look at the crowd, something like hurt clear in their darkening eyes. Gally suddenly felt his heart heavy looking that emotion in his brother's eyes. Then they landed on Gally but Gally ignored the gazes because he was now finding himself stalking towards the brunette who had just insulted his brother. He grabbed at the boy's collar with his good arm. How dare this son of the bitch think that his younger brother was such thing, and interrupt his brother's little celebration with his friend—even if it was Thomas.

"Two fucking mates hugged each other and you called my brother faggot?" Gally barked, his blood boiling up his face.

Gally sensed the boy's body shake hard, his face distorted in terror. He seemed not to know where the hell Gally had popped out. "Gally—no—I mean—please," the boy stuttered, eyes already watery as if Gally would care if he was gonna cry.

"Gally, calm down," said the bio teacher. In the corner of his eye, Gally saw her raise both hands in level chest, approaching him with pacifying manner.

"You heard what he said," Gally snapped in anger, feeling his big nostrils flaring.

Newt was running towards them with Thomas at his feet. "Gally, chill out," Newt said as he yanked Gally's hand from the boy's shirt.

"I should punch him in his shit mouth so he'll be more careful with it," said Gally, struggling out of Newt's grip. His sprained shoulder ached fiercely at the restraint as he lumbered forwards.

"Gally, listen," said Newt. Gally kept reaching for the brunette as that idiot dropped several paces back.

"Listen to me, you bloody yob!" Gally heard Newt shout at him. The curse got Gally's attention totally. He stopped bestirring and turned asides to look at his brother.

"That swine insulted you," Gally reasoned, stomach twisted with rage.

"No. Yes. I mean—" Newt tumbled for words, and ran his free hand through his hair in frustration, looking conflicting with his own head.

Gally glared at his brother, then at that brunette, then at Thomas, whose face was drained of color and who seemed not to understand what Newt was babbling about as much as Gally. How could his brother defend the one who called him faggot?

"I mean he called me faggot, which was offensive. But it's true—"

"True what?" Gally heard himself shout, more and more confused and enraged.

"It's true that I'm homosexual," said Newt with his eyes closed, as if waiting for the worst to come.

Gally found himself shrink back.

"You're talking crap," said Gally after a second of pure shock, shaking his head. Because it couldn't be true. His brother couldn't be queer in any universe.

"I'm talking truth," Newt groaned in exasperation. "And you're nothing better than that brat. You're homophobic as hell. And you know what, Gally? Even if you stretched me out, I'd never be straight. So deal with it."

Newt bursted in one breath with the toughness that had never been shown, in which Gally was taken aback second by second. And he was speechless. Gally even didn't know what to think. 

The students around them gaping in awe. The bio teacher who was standing in front of Newt and him had her gasp hidden behind her hand.  
Gally let his eyes move over Newt's shoulder and found Thomas dumbstruck, his eyes so wide and his skin so pale, like he was going to faint in any second.

Newt said nothing more but let go of Gally's upper arm. He turned around and approached Thomas, who was still burying his feet into the ground.

"And just so you know," said Newt as he whirled around to look at Gally again. " _This is my boyfriend_. Deal with this too."

And he pulled Thomas to where Gally really couldn't guess because his mind was a whirlwind now.

Was all of this really happening? Newt had no feelings for boys, for anyone actually. He couldn't be gay, or that was what Gally was desperately wishing for.

But when Gally thought about it with all of his concentration, it hit him like tons of pounds. Newt might fancy someone lately. It crossed Gally's mind with a horrible obviousness that Newt did look more alive recently, with all of his stupid, goofy smiles, off-key whistles while watering the garden, and all of it were symptoms of being in a bloody relationship. Damn it. Why had Gally never noticed before?

Yet Gally had messed up with Newt's emotions, with Newt's relationship. How much hurt had the boy got every time the situation forced him to deny his feelings? Gally suddenly and horribly realized that he might be not a good brother like he had always thought.

Cursing, he dashed in the direction that his brother and that dumb crap Thomas had been leaving.

~~~~~~~~

"I'm so so sorry, Tommy," said Newt. He had took Thomas into the locker room so they could at last have some privacy. It was so easier to spill all of his thoughts on the field because he couldn't bottle them up anymore. He couldn't just stand there and watch people embarrass Thomas anymore. Thomas had done so much for him, so much that Newt didn't know if he could ever thank him enough. But he didn't come out to the entire class, and maybe school if he had to, just because he felt he was in debt with Thomas. It was that if there were any situations that Newt could defend Thomas, could stand up for him, or a chance to get Thomas back, he would grasp it this time.

Thomas was staring at him like he was a foreign creature from another planet. He was standing away from Newt with a certain distance as if Newt was poisonous. "I don't know where the hell I got the idea telling Gally that you are my boyfriend. I know we broke up but I still have feelings for you, and at the same time I don't want to bother you and make you tired of me clinging to you and I—"

All of a sudden Thomas took a long stride towards him. Interrupting him like he'd always done. Newt stepped back reflexly at Thomas' sudden movement and his wings crashed the wardrobes behind.

Thomas brought one of his hands up and Newt thought Thomas would clamp it onto his mouth to shut him up, because Thomas didn't want to hear anything from him. But Thomas grabbed at his head, quite harshly—not that Newt minded—and forced their mouths together.

Newt's breath caught in his throat. Thomas kissed him with vehemence. It quickly became urgent and hungry, both of them had craved for it. This wasn't the longest time that they hadn't kissed, it had been weeks before, but this was the feelings of lips against lips that neither of them had thought they would ever have again.

"Newt, we need to talk." Gally's voice startled them.

Thomas hastily jerked back but Newt grasped at his collar to claim back his mouth. Newt needed it so desperately. But Thomas pulled himself away again.

"Newt—" Thomas said softly against his lips, his eyes locked intently with Newt's ones.

"Gally," Newt heard himself say without breaking eye contact with the dark-haired boy. "I'm kissing my boyfriend. If you mind, fuck off."

"Newton," Gally's voice was deadly serious now. Every word was slow and stressed. "We need to talk. Right now."

Newt tore his eyes off Thomas, hands still clutching at the boy's shirt and grunted. "We already talked. I talked all I wanted to talk. So I'm done."

"Yes, you're done with me," Gally said and approached them, his brows pulled together tightly. "But you have to talk to our parents."

"What?" Newt asked, and tried his best to keep the revulsion off his expression.

At that Thomas took a step back and took hold of Newt's hands. He looked uncomfortable when he whispered, "I'll be out there. Just talk to your brother, Newt, you need this talk. I'll give you as many kisses as you like after this whole thing's done." At Newt's protest, Thomas brought one of his hands up to his lips and placed a soft kiss on the knuckles before he strode towards the door. When he almost reached it, he was in front of Gally, and he gave him a nod. To Newt's astonishment, Gally nodded back at him, even though a little grudgingly.

"Newt—" Gally returned his gaze to Newt and began again, with an edge of annoyance to his tone.

"Are you trying to ruin my life? Again?" Newt said as he flung his hands upwards. "As if all you have done were not horrible enough already?"

"Newt, listen to me. Tell father and mother. They deserve to know."

"But I don't deserve to be hated by my own parents just for being true to my bloody self." Newt didn't know how, but clearly he had just stalked towards Gally in his rage, and now he was just away from his brother two feet. "And screw the whole school if they all know about this tomorrow. Because I don't care about them, not anymore. But I do care about father and mother, I care so much that I don't want to disappoint them even more."

"You can't hide it from them forever. The office will call them right away. And you know it, Newt. You'd better tell them before the school does," said Gally, and somehow his hands were on Newt's shoulders. "I'll come out to them with you if it makes things easier."

"You will what?" Newt asked in disbelief and yanked himself away from his brother's grip. "Are you bloody kidding me, Gally? You're not gay."

"I mean you'll come out to them, and I'll be there with you."

"You what?" Newt shook his head, disbelieving his own ears.

"You heard me clear, Newt."

Newt just keep shaking his head. Because: What the hell? Why all of a sudden Gally turned into a supportive big brother whom he should have been for eternity. Why now?

"Why are you helping me, Gally?" Newt turned his face away. He didn't want Gally to see the hurt in his eyes when he said, "You hate queers, you said it yourself, and those words have carved in my mind and my heart so painfully deep that I bet they will never fade."

"I know this would upset you even more, but the truth is that I still hat—" Gally stopped himself, and after drawing a deep breath, he began again. "I still don't like homosexual people. But I don't hate you, Newt, that I'm sure," said Gally with more gentle voice, and after a moment, he added, "whatever you are. But you should've told me about this before."

" _Should have told you?_ " Newt repeated his brother' words and felt acrid taste in his mouth.

He sat himself down onto the bench next to them and buried his face into his hands. Suddenly he felt drained of energy. Perhaps it was because of the flight, but surely this whole klunk with Gally contributing the greatest part. Gally went silent with him, maybe waiting for his answer. Newt didn't want to talk about it, or remind himself of what Gally had done. But if he insisted, fine, Newt would give him what he deserved. An outburst.

He said— _snapped _— eventually after lifting his head up and glaring at Gally. "You tried to beat Thomas, several times. You humiliated him in front of the entire school. You colluded with our parents to put the end to the thing that Thomas and our friends dearest love and devote. Gods know what you would do to me if you found out that Thomas and I were alike." Newt felt himself panting as all the words left his mouth.__

__Gally just remained silent. After a long moment, he let out a sigh and made himself sit down next to Newt._ _

__"I'm sorry," said Gally with startling sincere in his voice. It was still low but not scratchy like normal. And Newt found himself turning to look at Gally. Gally gazed back at him, his brows pulled together tighter and he seemed tense. "I mean it. I know it's quite late for me to realize how silly everything I did to you—and Thomas. I still find it hard to accept that you like that boy back, to believe that you're interested in boys in general. But again, he saved my life and somehow changed my bias about him. I feel like it's the least I can do for you, being there for you when you come out to our parents. And you're my brother, so even if you grovel to a Darkor—"_ _

__"I do not grovel to anybody, and stop being racist. You're better than no one," Newt heard himself growl._ _

__Gally cursed under his breath for—if Newt hadn't heard mistakenly—his own stupidity and choice of word. Then he corrected himself. "I mean I know I treated you wrong—I didn't know back then that you were—that you are gay. And I'm trying to fix it," Gally was stuttering, and it was strange because Gally had never had any difficulty with words, but perhaps had many with apologizing._ _

__"What if our parents disown me?"_ _

__"Don't play that what-if thing now, Newton." Gally rose to his feet and to Newt's surprise, he extended his hand to Newt. Newt took it after a moment of hesitating. Gally pulled him up as he said with uncharacteristically gambling sense. "Just take a leap of faith."__

 _ _~~~~~~~~~__

 _ _Thomas was not sure this coming out would be a success, but Newt's father was going on a business trip was a relief—for now—that Thomas was sure. Why? Because it only took this mere woman to make Thomas feel chili needles run up his spine. Of course he hoped Newt would come out to both of his parents, but right now, one by one was a less horrible deal._ _

__Her expression filled Thomas with dread, right at the very first moment she saw Thomas step into the living room. The first time Thomas had seen her this closely was at the wedding, but the orange light from the lanterns hadn't shown all the sharpness in her lineament. Now with the sunlight beaming through the large window reaching from the floor to the ceiling, Thomas was made to realize why both of Gally and Newt felt pinned to the ground by this woman._ _

__Her fine skin was pale, even paler than her youngest son, radiating under the bright light. Newt had a small and high nose like his mother, but that type of nose combined with her high cheeks made her face look more angular and stern. The grey in her eyes were cool and brought the air of scorn when they trained on Thomas' face. She possessed a set of thin wings, matching her slender body._ _

__She put the newspaper in her hand down onto the coffee table and regarded each of them, then crossed her legs, hands on her knee._ _

__Thomas felt Newt's palm sweating against his, or it was his own sweat, Thomas couldn't tell. Gally was the first who broke the heavy silence._ _

__"Mother," said Gally, forcing a stiff smile and made his way to the table set. When he was seated on the chair next to his mother, he nodded at them and indicated to the settee opposite them._ _

__Newt seemed on the nerves as much as Thomas was, he squeezed Thomas' hand like he was trying to pull more courage from Thomas in which Thomas rubbed his thumb again Newt's skin. They barely took two steps forward before Newt's mom raised her voice._ _

__"Stop," she said shortly. Thomas felt Newt trembled a little. She let her gaze settle on the lock of their hands and one side of her mouth twisted in distaste._ _

__Newt gulped before he said, "Mother, so first I need you to stay calm. I want to introduce you Thomas—"_ _

__"That's enough," she stopped him again, and nonchalantly picked up the newspaper and began to read it as though they were not there. She gave them a short glance over the edge of the paper and said, "I already knew him."_ _

__"—my boyfriend," Newt finished his sentence and set his lips into a thin line. Newt looked upset and defiant now._ _

__"I said enough," she hissed and tossed the newspaper back onto the table. Gally looked at them with concern in his eyes. "Now get him out of this house. And whatever you are going to say, I don't want to hear any of it."_ _

__"No," Newt said, the muscle twitching over his jaw. "I'm telling you that I have a boyfriend and you have a gay son."_ _

__She shot to her feet at that and approached them with belligerent steps. She was standing right at their faces. Her height was impressive. Hereditary, Thomas thought, for both of Gally and Newt were strikingly tall. "You're not in your right mind, we raise you not for you to shame this family," she grumbled, face twisted with anger. When she fixed her eyes on Thomas, she balled her hands into fists and said through her teeth. "This Darkor tempted you into this, into being a rebellious son and annoying your own parents."_ _

__As a woman with detached expression and pose, she lost her temper more easily than Thomas had thought. The flame of anger kindled in her eyes._ _

__Gally had followed her and was now standing behind her back. He looked oddly obsequious towards her. It seemed like this was the first time Gally was not on her side and instead defended his younger brother._ _

__"Mother. Let Newt talk. He's trying to tell you that—"_ _

__"Gally, silent," she said without turning around to look at her oldest son. Her white face had turned red at this point. Gally's jaw pulled tight immediately._ _

__"I think it _is_ people like you that shame your own families by judging upon your children's gender. You yourselves hold in contempt against them, you support others to do it to them—to your own children instead of believing in them. Are you satisfied, watching people show their disgust at your children's faces? I'm gay, mother, and it's not a shameful thing," Newt said again, this time his voice more audacious but his palm was getting sweatier. Thomas knew that Newt's fears were all on the edges. He wished he could come out for him, but Newt had to do it himself. "I was born gay and I'm growing up gay, and I will die gay someday maybe with my last thought is that my parents have never accepted my true person even in one moment."_ _

__The words seemed to stuck at his mother's throat, she didn't say anything about it. If there was any hurt inside her, she didn't show it. Instead she ignored her son and began to curse at Thomas, her voice ringing with fury. "You nasty sod, you infected him."_ _

__Newt yanked Thomas and himself a pace back, as if frightened at the thought that she would claw at Thomas' face in any second. "Mother, you still don't get it. It's not a disease so even if you get me seen by a doctor or give me any treatment, it'll be all futile."_ _

__The woman still glared at Thomas, not letting her son's words crossing her. "You—you made my son think that—"_ _

__"No, mother," Newt shouted, cutting her off. She seemed to jump out a little at her son's burst. And at last she trained her gaze on Newt. Newt shook his head and said, his voice more gentle now. "It's not his fault. Or anyone's fault. It's just me, being gay, and I feel it right. I know it right. But if you two try to accept it, even if it takes long or short time, it'll be grea—"_ _

__Newt's mother suddenly brought one of her hand up. And Thomas reflexly stopped her action. His grip around her small wrist was not merciless but he kept it firm. She swung her gaze from Newt back to Thomas. Newt's face was an inch away from her palm. And only then Newt, startled, seemed to realize that she had intended on placing it on his cheek. The bottom of his stomach dropped. If she planned on slapping Thomas again, Thomas would have expected it. But this was a whole different thing._ _

__"Get out," she screamed in savage tone. Thomas automatically released her wrist found himself seizing Newt's hand. Newt was leaning lightly on him, and Thomas could feel his breathing become more shallow. The flare of hurt was uncurling in his eyes but he held on to Thomas like Thomas was the only thing that kept him from falling._ _

___"Both of you."_ _ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's only one chapter left. OMG, I just love my readers so so much hahaha :) so I really hope you guys love this story and cling to it till the end. <3  
> Ps: I know there're some writing mistakes (I'm trying to correct them all gradually because I have no Beta for this story). Hope you guys don't mind them and enjoy the read. :)


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The final chapter—I wanna cry. I'll miss those idiots so much. Thank all of you so so so much for your love and kudos and comments, they're always highly appreciated. When I started writing this story, I just thought its length would be only about 30k, but now, wow LOL. I really didn't believe I could write a story this long in only one summer break, but thanks to your supports, I made it. Love you all, readers!!!
> 
> May you all enjoy this chapter. :)

The knocks on his window glass were so insistent. To the extent that Thomas had to haul himself out of his soft, warm, comfortable bed. Thomas regretted his decision coming back to Minho's house to sleep instead of staying with his parents that night.

What a surprise? And annoyance?

Really! Thomas never had any desire to meet that very certain blonde boy in the middle of the night. Or he was in one of his most terrifying nightmares?

"Gally? To what do I own the pleasure to have you here?" Thomas said, trying to give Gally the most sarcastic tone of his voice, though he doubted Gally could hear that clearly through the window glass.

Gally said nothing, but he seemed to grumble something under his breath, and nodded down at the main door.

"Newt's not here," Thomas said and yawned loudly as to make sure that he showed his weariness clearly after he opened the door. It was over midnight and he had just had an excitingly exhausting day. Gally stood there somewhat awkwardly but still managed to put a deep snarl in his grumpy face.

"I'm not here for Newt," Gally barked rudely like he always did. Thomas had taught himself how to get used to it though. If Gally weren't rude, he wasn't Gally. But Thomas had to admit that he felt quite annoyed being woken out of his wet dream. Gally would never know how hard he had tried to get himself to sleep with his mind filled with the memories of naked Newt as to have a dream of naked Newt.

"Minho's not home." Thomas wondered if he would have to list out all the people that were actually not here for Gally to meet.

"I came to see you," Gally said.

Thomas found himself slamming the door shut.

What the fuck was that? Did Gally know about the thing he and Newt had done? And came here, in the middle of the night, with everyone settling in sleep, to secretly beat him up?

"What?" Thomas asked in disbelief as he opened the door again, knowing that he had just acted very impolite shutting the door in the blonde's face. Surprisingly Gally was still standing there, the snarl still on his face, but he had stuffed his hands in his jeans pocket. So Thomas took it as a good sign that Gally didn't plan on hitting him. . . yet.

"I came here to say thank you," Gally grumbled in his chest. The words were so tiny yet held some sincerity in it. Thomas was surprised though, shocked even.

"What?" Thomas asked, not to make sure, but to hear it again. The _'thank you'_ from Gally—the golden boy—was more worthy than gold itself.

"You heard it," said Gally, his voice calling on the edge of impatience now. "I won't say it again."

"You thank me for..." Thomas tried again, to see if Gally could put more sincere in it.

"The fall," said Gally curtly.

"The fall," Thomas repeated, drawling the word. "It happened, like what, a month ago. Gally, what actually you are doing here?"

Gally seemed to lose his temper at that. Thomas could almost see fire smoke puffing from his scalp. Gally snapped, "You motherfucker, I want to thank you for saving my life. Isn't it clear? Or you're so dumb and thick that I have to scream it out loud?"

"I'd love that," Thomas said with honesty and shrugged.

"Shut the hole up," grumbled Gally, his nostrils flaring lightly in faint anger.

"Is that really all?" Thomas gave Gally a narrow-eyed look. "You came to meet me at 12:34 just to say thank me?" and shook his head. "I don't buy it. There has to be something else."

Gally cursed something under his breath, in a language that Thomas hardly knew, perhaps used in aristocracy, which Thomas would evidently ask Newt about later.

"Is it impossible to believe that I feel thankful that you saved me?" Gally asked finally.

"No," Thomas shrugged again. "Not entirely. But hear it from you is another problem."

"Is it really easy to hate me?"

"For people in general, yes. Scared of you even. But I don't hate you."

"Really?"

"No," said Thomas and gave Gally the look that said _'Did you seriously believe that?'_. "I mean I kinda wanted to put my fist in you face at some points. You were an ass back then."

"And now?"

"And now you're a coward who daren't say something you bear in mind." Thomas arched one eyebrow defiantly.

Gally sighed and spoke out what he kept from the beginning of this talk finally. And his attitude—a little shy and awkward—was very unnerving. "Have you ever—Newt and you—have you two had—?"

"Had what?"

"I did a research yesterday, about how two men—" Gally was doing a weird thing with his two point fingers poking at each other. Then, as if out of his fucking mind, he grabbed at Thomas' shoulders and shook him violently. "Oh, come on. You know what I mean."

"I'm not following, dude." Thomas tried his best to push Gally's hands away without hurting the blonde's dignity and a somewhat strangely new-formed camaraderie between them. "Just spill it out already."

"Sex," Gally blurted out, his face flamed in red. And Thomas was puzzled at how similar Newt and his brother reacted when it came to the talk of sex.

"Sex?" Thomas' stomach plummeted, but he cooly composed his expression and squinted at the taller boy again. Was Gally really coming here, waking him up persistently, to talk about his sex life only because he cared? Thomas doubted that. But again, Thomas' sweetest boyfriend was Gally's dearest brother after all.

"Yes, gay sex. I've found some articles." Thomas lifted an eyebrow, and Gally corrected himself. "Okay, lots of articles. And they said—" Thomas raised his other eyebrow, and Gally cursed again before continued. "They showed it would be hurtful—the screams were so loud I still can hear them now—for the one who was—what is it called? _Under_?"

"Bottom?"

"Ah, yes, it's what I meant." Gally nodded in contemplating. "And I mean that if you ever hurt Newt—"

Thomas knew what answer Gally prefered to hear from him. It was a damn _No_. And even Gally had known the truth already, he still wanted to hear the lie. Should Thomas bend the truth? Or distract Gally by asking back him a question? Yes, the later was a good and wise choice, in any circumstance.

"Look the one who is talking," growled Thomas as he thrusted his fingers at Gally's chest. "You are the one who always hurt your brother."

"I know," said Gally. It was worryingly strange that Gally didn't smack his hand away, punch him in the stomach for that matter, when Thomas poked at his chest. He only lowered his eyelashes and ran a hand through his too short hair. Gally said, and honesty could be seen raw in his voice. "I know, and I'm trying to fix it."

The long silence stretched out.

Eventually, Gally said. "Alright. I think we're done here."

Thomas heard himself breathe out in relief.

"So you two have done it, or not?" Gally asked.

~~~~~~~~~

"Thomas—the lusty black-winged boy, aren't you?"

The ginger woman spoke even before Thomas could introduce himself right after the door was opened. She was greeting him with a brand smile, her dimple deep on one cheek. So she must be—

"Good afternoon, Mrs. Rose," said Thomas, grinning. So this was the woman Newt often talked about. Given by the smiley eyes on Newt's face every time he rambled about, Thomas was sure that this women had an important place in Newt's heart. "I'm Thomas, Newt's bo—"

"Yes, Newt's boyfriend, we all know about you here," Mrs. Rose smile widened.

 _'We all'?_ Thomas looked around and found himself being smiled at by a couple of peasants on the fields.

"Oh," Thomas said awkwardly when he returned his gaze to Mrs. Rose.

"Come in," she said and put one hand on his shoulder and pushed him lightly into the hallway. "Newt's waiting for you."

Thomas followed Mrs. Rose into what seemed like a kitchen combined with dining room, and saw his boyfriend sit at the table. Newt was leaning his wings against the chair-back, feet drew onto the chair edge and knees against the table edge. He was scrutinizing his sketchbook and when he realized Thomas coming into the room, he hastily closed it.

"Tea?" Mrs. Rose asked when Thomas made his way to his boyfriend who immediately pulled him down for a chaste kiss right when he reached him.

Thomas jerked back lightly and glanced at Mrs. Rose, who was already pouring steamy water into a teacup with rosy patterns.

"Yes, thank you, Mrs. Rose," Thomas said and made himself sit down next to Newt, who was putting his sketch aside onto the table then taking a sip from his cup.

"Alright, I'll leave you two alone, make yourself at home," Mrs. Rose said as she lay the cup in front of Thomas then walked out of the kitchen, her small wings flickering with her giggles.

The tea was made with milk, and there was a plate of biscuits in front of him as well.

"So that's Mrs. Rose your family steward? She's really nice," Thomas said then picked up one biscuit, but before he managed to put it into his mouth, Newt took it from his hand and dipped it into the tea. Thomas blinked at Newt when the blonde raised it before his lips.

"It's meant to eat like this. Custom, you know?" Newt said and put it into Thomas' open mouth.

There was so many things Thomas would have to learn about, but he didn't mind learning new things about Newt and his habits and his tradition. It's quite a fun to know all about everything around them.

"And actually Mrs. Rose was not my family steward," Newt said and dipped a biscuit for himself.

"Huh?" Thomas said around a mouthful.

"When my parents tossed me out of the house, she came with me too. My parents had protested—they seemed profoundly furious that they wanted me nowhere to shelter," Newt said, and blinked his eyes, but he breathed out a bitter laugh as if to stop himself from crying, again.

Thomas remembered Newt's trembling body in his embrace when his mother kicked them out that day. Gally had tried to follow them outside but Newt had insisted that Gally should stay with her instead of leaving her by her own after the event. Newt had been living with Minho's family for a couple of days until one day his parents called for him to get back home for a final talk. And now he was living under Mrs. Rose's roof.

"They said Mrs. Rose had no right to shelter me because she was the family steward. But Mrs. Rose said she was no family steward but my steward alone. It turned out that she had been at the service of my grandfather and he had asked her to take care of me before his death. So she brought me here and saw me as his son," Newt murmured the words, a sad smile on his lips. "She always sees me as her son. I hope I weren't a pest living here. I will never pay her enough."

Thomas put his hand on Newt's on the table and squeezed it. "Don't be that pessimistic. Bad things happen and good things happen, too. You don't need to pay for anything that you deserve."

"Do I?"

"Yes, you do deserve many good things, and people like Mrs. Rose, and me, and Minho and your friends—who texted me so many messages after our breakup, I still wonder why," Thomas laughed a little at that.

Newt pursed his pink lips. "They saw me broody and they asked for your number. I said No, but Minho and Teresa gave it to them. I really didn't know they would bother you."

Thomas shook his head, still laughing. "Not at all. Actually there were some really funny stories that they talked about you. I had no idea how much humorous you were before."

Newt was glaring at him. "What stories? Tell me. I'll kill the hell out of them when the summer break's over."

"Slim it, man." Thomas tried to bite back his laugh. "My point here is that there are many people around you know that you're worthy so much love and the best ever things. So smile, or I'll not take you to my most favorite place in this entire universe."

"Where's it exactly?" Newt narrowed his eyes at him.

Thomas took a hearted sip from his cup until it was totally drained. "Come." Thomas rose to his feet and extended his hand instead of answering. Newt took it and stood up with him. But before they took any step, Newt grabbed his sketch and clutched it tightly against his chest.

"What's it exactly?" Thomas feigned a questioning look at Newt. Thomas already knew but he couldn't ruin the surprise, right?

Newt ducked his head to hide his smile. "Let's go, and we'll see."

~~~~~~~~~

"For goodness' sake, is it a sequoia tree?" Newt literally dropped his jaw when he had the first glimpse of the gigantic tree. It was the highest and largest tree he ever had a chance to see in his whole life. Sequoia trees were a symbol of Darkors so no Lightor had bothered to search and look at them. And it was such a shame. All the Lightors had no idea what they were missing out.

Thomas chuckled at him and pulled him in the giant tree's direction. The closer they got to it, the bigger the tree looked. And now they were standing right in front of it. Newt hardly saw the top of the tree. It had to be at least three hundreds feet in height. The setting sun was now obstructed by the giant tree.

Newt automatically reached out his free hand which wasn't holding his sketch to touch the phloem, it rough under his skin. But beautiful nonetheless.

"It's my family oid tree," Thomas informed when Newt turned his head to look at him in disbelief.

"Your family oid tree?" Newt asked and admired the tree again. He stepped closer and spread his arms outwards and began to hug the tree. It even felt larger when he did it, perhaps it took ten or more people with extending arms to fully embrace it.

"Yes, my family has taken care of it since forever. When Mom and Dad are off for work, Chuck and I would come here to water it in drought season and eliminate insects in wet weather. But now there's only Chuck because I study far from here as you can see. My house's about two miles away from here. We'll go meet my family later."

Newt tore himself from the tree and trained his eyes on Thomas. "Later?"

"Yes. I told them you would come today. Mom must be decorating the house as if it were Christmas in June, Dad must be cooking a feast enough for ten Chuck, and Chuck must be woofing around without actually doing anything besides rambling about how awesome your wings are," Thomas ranted and laughed, his eyes brighter with joy. The thought of his own family suddenly became a strong wave crashing in his mind but Newt tried to dismiss it immediately. He didn't want to ruin the moment. Now there was only him and Thomas, Thomas and him, and somehow it was enough to make Newt smile with genuine happiness.

"So what're we doing now?" asked Newt, grinning back at Thomas. "Can I water the tree? I'm really good at that."

"No, not now. And anyone can be good at that." Thomas laughed again and shook his head. "If you want, you can do it everyday, but not today." And then he pointed upwards. Newt followed his pointing and saw that there was a half-moon shadow on the tree's truck up there. "Now we're flying up to my favorite bed room. Dad told me I could have it until I got married, much to Chuck's envy."

Newt looked back down at Thomas, bewildered.

"Flying up there? Up bloody there?" At Thomas' nod, he kept protesting. "I can't. I didn't bring your device."

Thomas lifted his hands to cup Newt's face. "You don't need it."

Newt shook his head with Thomas' palms still framing his cheeks. "Tommy, I really can't. Without your device means without balance, I'll never make it up there."

"Newt, listen to me. You don't fly anymore not because of the limp in your wings, but only of the fear of falling again. I know you still can fly with it, not fast and high, but enough to be like others of our creature."

"I—I want to fly, Tommy. I want freedom, too. But I'm really scared of the feeling when I almost reached it, and it slipped through my fingers. I had fallen once. I think it's for the best—not flying again."

"You think every lessons being taught should be learned, don't you?" Thomas shook his head. "Sometimes you have to forget lessons that were taught in the wrong way. The fall you experienced was not to teach you and advice you not to fly again with your broken part. It is all wrong thought, Newt."

Newt tried to stave off tears as he watched Thomas unfold his wings and leap up. Thomas was still so gorgeous when he was flying, and it was so easy for him to fly. Not for Newt.

"Tommy, I need your device," Newt shouted after Thomas and watched him glide in front of him, he felt his hair and saw dead leaves stirred with each flap of Thomas' wings. And then Thomas flew down before him and reached out his hand for Newt.

"You don't. Because you've got me instead. Trust me. Fly with me."

Newt had never thought he would trust someone the way he trusted Thomas now. But his feet stubbornly stuck on the ground. Newt hesitated for a moment before he saw Thomas' smile, a dumb-looking yet reassuring smile that he had developed a hard crush on in the very first place. He took Thomas' hand like he always did, and began to spread his wings.

The first flicker of his wings was messy but he did manage to take his feet off the ground. The twinge ache appeared again, and Newt tried to ignore it and instead focused on every movement of Thomas' wings and mimicked them. After a moment when Newt was actually flying even gracelessly, Thomas let go of his hand and flew upwards further from him. Newt panicked at the lost guide immediately, struggling in midair. Then he felt falling. His body was still not his. But his mind was. Newt spun quickly and found a tree branch right before his face, and he pushed himself forward to grab it with both arms as to keep himself from dropping. The branch was huge, and Newt had to cling to it with both arms before climbing on it.

Thomas was flying and laughing at him. Newt felt his face flush, slight fury and extreme sheepishness burning his cheeks.

"You prat, don't laugh at me," he snapped.

Thomas laughed louder.

And suddenly Newt found himself flying up after Thomas, with the simple thought that if he didn't fly, he couldn't get Thomas. And Newt just wanted to be by his side, to smack Thomas for making fool of him or to just to be with Thomas. And after so long, finally he caught up with the brunette. He still lost balance at many points and almost dropped, but he kept himself flying with Thomas. They glided around the tree trunk, Thomas' laugh mixed with Newt's now, until they reached that shadow.

It was actually an entry to a room. Tree house sort of.

"Are you inviting me to your bed room?" Newt asked, feeling his lips quirk into a slight smirk.

"Well, yes," said Thomas, then bowed and lifted one hand in the dark room's direction. "It's just a polite exchange, isn't it?"

"Well, as I recall, I've never invited you to my room, like ever?"

"Well, I'm not a type of man who need invitations. I just actively do whatever I know the host would like."

Newt rolled his eyes before flying into the space. Right after his feet touched the floor, the room suddenly lit up. Startled, Newt jerked and took an instinctive step back. He would have fallen from the room if Thomas hadn't grabbed his shoulders and pushed him inside. Newt could feel Thomas' chest and arms press against his wings, and his body in fire with something coiling in his lower stomach.

When he pulled himself together, Newt found what he was seeing. Orange and golden light trains were hung everywhere in the room, connecting with one another by chains, brightening his vision.

"This is so—"

"Romantic?"

"Wasting electricity."

Newt ignored Thomas' groan and grumble about how much effort he had made to do the lights to take in his surroundings.

Newt turned around and saw thousand and thousand miles of forest laid out before his eyes. The green of trees was washed with the yellow of the quickening sunset. The cool breeze blowed at his face lightly before it poured into the room. He took a step forward, just to check how high he had flown, but a hand closing around his upper arm stopped him.

Newt turned back and saw Thomas' brow raising high in confusion and concern. Newt smiled at him before letting himself pulled further into the room.

The furniture inside was simple. There was a small round table in the middle of the round room. It was so small that perhaps its only purpose was to decorate instead of for people to sit at. Newt got to the table and put his sketch on it. He leaned one hand on the table top and looked around again. There was a mattress laying in the left instead of a bed, but it was thick and oddly huge, in contrast with the table, perhaps to somehow lessening the emptiness of the large room. And on the right was a family picture framed with dark blue colored wood. There was Thomas' parents in it, looking not so much younger than now. Maybe the picture had been captured a couple of years ago. But when Newt's gaze was fixed on the small boy with mushroom-shaped hair and that familiar bright eyes, Newt decided the picture must have been took a decade ago. And Chuck, Thomas was holding him in his arms with a strength of a seven-year-old boy and a wrinkled smile on his face. Behind them was this tree.

And that was all.

"You were able to habitat here?" Newt asked as he made his way to the picture to get a close look on it. Thomas had looked so funny when he had been a child, with that hair style and the lack of one front tooth.

"Handsome, wasn't I?"

Newt turned around and looked at his boyfriend who had already sat on the mattress and leaned back onto his hands. His wings matched the black color of the sheet.

Newt bit back his smile and rolled eyes again instead. Then darting to Thomas.

Thomas jumped out when he flopped to the mattress and straddled his lap.

"Yes, you are," Newt said and ran his hands over Thomas' face.

"What manner was made of that action?" Thomas asked when Newt was now cupping his face.

"Wanted to feel your handsomeness with my skin."

"What about your lips?" Thomas smirked defiantly.

Newt decided not to answer but lean in to kiss his way down from Thomas' hair, his forehead, his eyes, and cheeks. He could feel Thomas giggling at his perks. Then he stopped.

"What about my lips?" Thomas asked when Newt pulled back, frowning.

"Want to feel them with this." Newt leaned in again and slid the tip of his tongue just lightly across the seam between Thomas' lips. Newt hadn't realized how much bolder he was now after dating Thomas.

Thomas groaned and used his hands on Newt's waist to hold him still as he leaned forwards to claim Newt's mouth. Newt was kissing him with enthusiasm, fast and hard. But there was something wrong with it. Newt always preferred slow and gentle kisses except that kiss in the locker room. And there was an air of inexplicable desperation in the way his lips crashed Thomas' now.

Thomas pulled back abruptly and saw Newt blink his eyes, nostrils lightly flaring.

"Are you alright?" Thomas asked and reached up to trace his fingertips over Newt's lips.

Newt climbed off him at that and sat himself on the edge of the mattress, facing away from Thomas who was fully on bed. He looked at Newt's hunched shoulder and the taunt line of his back. Newt seemed like holding himself, and the only movement of his body was his wings which were flickering a little.

Thomas crawled out of the bed and moved until he was kneeling in front of Newt.

"Hey." Thomas took hold of Newt's hands which were laying on his knees. "I can see the weight on your shoulders, will you share it with me?"

Newt looked into his eyes, his own ones already tearful. Newt shook his head.

"It's just—" Newt choked, then shook his head again. "I'm sorry, Tommy. I really don't want to ruin this moment. I—you are doing the most romantic thing for me, but—" Newt trailed off and unconsciously glance at Thomas' family picture.

Thomas reached up one hand then cupped Newt' jaw and tilted it towards him. "Let's talk about your family, Newt. Bottling it up is unhealthy."

"No." Newt scrubbed at his eyes with the heel of his palm to dry off the tears threatening to burst. "They abandoned me. I don't wanna think about them."

"Hey, sh. . ." Thomas tucked one stray lock of the blonde hair behind Newt's ear. "Yet you are thinking about them. It's alright. You haven't spoken a word about them since that day. I know it's been a disruptive time for you. Just let me carry the world with you, even if it's good or bad, alright?"

Newt gazed down at Thomas for a long moment. Finally he moved. He slid one hand inside the collar of his tee and pulled out a chain, Thomas' present on his seventeenth birthday. Newt fiddled with Thomas' down feather and then the small rounded object—his family ring.

"Your family is wonderful, Tommy. I don't wish to exchange anything, I just wish mine changed. You told me to keep it elsewhere. So I put it here with your gift, wear it where my heart beats. I hoped that it would be my lucky charm, that it would somehow magically harmonize us and my family, and that it would make my coming out a great success. . . just somehow, in any way. But perhaps my hopes were too high."

"Or perhaps they just haven't come true, yet. Can you see it, Newt? You fly again, you do the thing that you never though it would be possible. And you still have Gally, and Minho, and me, and so many people around you who care about you, like Mrs. Rose and Clint and Jeff and Teresa. If you wanna thank us for anything, please don't give up your hopes!"

Newt drew a deep, tremulous breath to steady himself before he nodded and let his tears fall this time. Thomas felt the bile taste rising in the back of his throat looking at Newt crying. Before Thomas could wipe his tears away for him, Newt framed Thomas' face in his hands and tugged him up to kiss him. His breath was hot and so were his tears. Thomas tasted them on Newt's lips and he just somehow felt that the tears weren't that utter sad anymore. Newt crawled back further and pulled Thomas with him until the blonde was beneath Thomas' body. Thomas braced his forearms on either side of Newt head so his weight wouldn't descend totally onto Newt, but kept closed enough to feel Newt's heart beating against his chest.

"Can I take off your T-shirt?" Newt mumbled against his mouth as he hands were on the line of buttons on the back of Thomas' tee. He was blushing and Thomas knew why. This was the furthest step they had ever had with each other. Thomas had gotten Newt off with his hand, but only one time, and nothing more than kisses. They hadn't had much time together back then like now.

Thomas let out an amused laugh. "You're so cute!"

Newt pulled away and narrowed his eyes at Thomas. "You say I'm cute one more time, we'll stop this make-out."

Thomas laughed louder and kissed him again. Newt huffed but began to work at the buttons anyway. He lifted himself up to yank his tee away and—

"Thomas."

"Fuck, it's Chuck," Thomas jumped out at the call of his name. In no time he was off of Newt.

"Bloody hell. Put your shirt on," Newt urged, his cheek burning red.

"Thoma—" Chuck screamed out again.

"Don't come up here," Thomas shouted back as he hastily slid his arms into the sleeves.

"Thomas, we have to meet. Mom said—"

"I'll come down. Just—give me a sec."

"What? Mom said what?" Thomas scoffed as he was standing on the ground in front of his short annoying spoil-sport brother.

Chuck scrutinized his face and then his tee which Thomas even hadn't buttoned up with his back fully revealed now.

"What?" Thomas asked again, impatient.

Chuck rolled his eyes before digging out something from the back pocket of his jeans.

Thomas' jaw might have dropped onto the ground if it could.

In his hands now was a small pack with a loopy _LUBE_?standing out in striking pink sparkles, and a condom. A fucking condom.

"Mom wants safe sex" was Chuck's curt explanation.

"Newt and I were just—" Thomas found himself protesting immediately, in which Chuck just held up one of his hand to interrupt him.

"Stop. I have no desire to hear at all."

And then the shorter boy flew away, leaving his babbling big brother.

"Your mom wants us to come home now?" Newt asked when Thomas stepped back into the room. He was still lounging on the mattress waiting for Thomas.

"Er—" Thomas scratched his head, and then lifted the stuff in his hand up. "They thought we were having sex."

"Oh," Newt said, blinking. And after a moment, Newt said the one sentence that shocked Thomas to the core that his mouth might have dropped onto the ground again—the earth ground even. People maybe decided to keep surprising Thomas today.

"I think perhaps we should actually have sex," Newt said and shrugged with uncharacteristically confidence. 

Thomas practically guffawed at the offer. And then, again, shyness made Newt's voice tiny again when he added. "If you want." And only then Thomas realized that Newt was meaning it.

Thomas swallowed down his unfinished laughter then cleared his throat. "Of course I want." It was nothing but the truth. Thomas was teenager, and so was Newt. Hot blood ran fiercely, especially through the very veins in the middle of their bodies. Thomas drew his brows together at the mix of arousal and nervous. He knew he was looking utterly perplexed at this point. He didn't know if he liked the idea—okay, he liked the idea—if he really let himself do it without being scared of the prospect where everything went wrong and either of them would get hurt.

Newt seemed not to care much about this though, unlike Thomas. Newt was always shy when he talked about sex, but seemed bold enough to take a shot of everything. Like their almost kiss, or their first kiss, or the first time Thomas had offered him a handjob, never had Newt denied anything even if it was a punishment, or a resolution to hold Thomas back, or just an impulsive acceptance to something he had never experienced before. A smile tugged at Newt's lips as he wriggled his brows and waved Thomas towards him. Thomas obeyed and now he was straddling Newt and kissing him again.

"So I will do you or you will do me?" Thomas broke the kiss and asked, his hands idly massaging Newt's scalp.

"Does it matter?" Confusion was clear in Newt's eyes, which Thomas doubted Newt had ever watched pornographic before. It was bizarre seeing Newt had guts to try everything new without knowing a bit about it.

"It will hurt you, that is for sure, if I do you." Thomas bit his lips.

"Will it be pleasant later?" Newt asked as his hands were wandering Thomas's bare back, occasionally rubbing the feathers of the joint between Thomas' wings which were covering both of them. Thomas just wished his wings could have any ability to feel anything besides tickling, to feel the sensation of the golden white wings beneath them now.

"Well," Thomas snorted. "It will, if you can overcome the pain."

"So yeah, let's do it," Newt bucked up his lower part, which earned him a surprised moan from Thomas when their erection grind together, and groped at Thomas' tee to pull it away again. But Thomas stopped him and knelt up between Newt legs.

"Newt, are you really knowing what are you asking?" Thomas frowned and shook his head at Newt, who was sitting up to face him. "It will not be like the time I jerked you off. There'll be a lot of pain. I better do the bottom."

Newt rolled his eyes and groaned. "I don't really give a damn, Tommy." He reached out and traced his fingertips ever so softly across Thomas' chest. Thomas held back his laugh at the tickling sensation. And then he pressed his palm to where Thomas' heart lay, his eyes intense and dark when he looked straight into Thomas' ones. "I want to feel you inside me. And next times we do this, we can switch if you want to feel the same."

 _Next times?_ Thomas registered the words and felt the explosion of fondness in his chest. And only then a smile pulled at his lips.

Thomas climbed off the bed and began to undress. Newt was still sitting on the mattress and leaning his weight on his hands, eyes following every movements of Thomas'. His tee easily slid off his body and then his jeans followed with a clink sound as the belt hit the wood ground. When Thomas stepped out of the pool of clothing on the floor, he saw Newt's eyes automatically drop to his middle part. His dark brown eyes were so huge that Thomas wondered if Newt liked what he was seeing.

When Thomas was completely naked, Newt couldn't help but drink in the sight of Thomas' body. Newt had never seen anyone entirely naked in a direct way, but he didn't need to see anyone else to know that Thomas was very attractive, and Thomas was the only person that he wanted to see off-clothed in his life. 

"This is not fair if you're fully clothed." Thomas said as he climbed back onto the mattress and made himself sit on Newt' lap.

Newt was blabbering something when Thomas leaned in and reached over his sides and unbuttoned his tee on the back, his cheek pressed against Newt's. Newt bowed his head a little so his lips touched Thomas' bare shoulder and closed his eyes. He could feel Thomas giggle at his action. His skin brought a scent of salt in the heat summer, and of wood and forest. If Newt's scent was soft and milky, Thomas' was wild and of nature. And Newt decided that he loved it. He shivered at the contact of skin to skin when his tee was pulled off.

Soon the smell of Thomas was gone. Newt opened his eyes and saw that Thomas had leaned back to work at his jeans. Newt automatically lifted his hips up a little so Thomas could easily yanked them down.

"You are hot naked, Newt," Thomas said in a breathless moment between them.

Newt reached up to touch Thomas' cheek. "Really?" He let out an awkward laughter. He had never received that kind of obscene compliment before. "I'm skinny like a malnourished kid."

Thomas smiled and held his hand. He turned it and place a kiss onto the curve of his palm as his other hand pressed the plane of Newt' chest and slowly slid down to learn the shape of his stomach. Thomas' touches were forceful yet caressing. Newt heard himself whimper.

"You should get a huge mirror in your bedroom. I can see here a muscled body which has been losing quite a lot weight. But it can be salvage if Mrs. Rose feeds you in the way my Dad feeds Chuck." Thomas laughed his belly laugh, which made Newt grin against his self-consciousness. "And you're tall. But you always slump your shoulders so no one could ever know your impressive height. I have found your self-deprecation very awkward yet sexy as hell since the very first moment I saw you on that curb. You are beautiful yet you aren't aware of it, so I have an honor to make you realize your real value."

Newt was beautiful in Thomas' eyes? Newt tried to smother his grin and bit his lips as his own trembling hands began to run down Thomas' broad shoulders down to his biceps, his skin burning under Newt' fingers, and grabbed them to pull him closer.

They kissed again, this time messy and urgent, as he heard Thomas rolled on the condom perhaps with difficulty for he grumbled some curses against Newt's lips.

And only after what felt like a good five monutes that Thomas pulled away.

"Sorry, it's the first time I do this," said Thomas, still struggling with the condom.

Newt held his hands and took it from him. "Let me."

And it turned out more troublesome than Newt had expected. Both of them had even managed to tear the condom apart in the progress. Then they stared dumbstruck at the tattered condom held between them for a way too long moment.

Newt raised his voice into the silence eventually. "I think it's safe without it. This is our first after all."

Thomas let out a laughter. "Well, sorry Mom." He shrugged and tossed it onto the floor, then grabbed at the next stuff. The pack of lubricant.

It had a loopy _Lube_ in pink sparkles printed on. Wow.

Newt lay himself back onto the mattress and pushed up on his elbows as he watched Thomas spout the content onto his fingers and rub it maybe as to get it warmer. Thomas searched his gaze for the last ask for confirmation and Newt nodded at him. He spread his legs further and bent them until his feet were flat on the mattress.

Newt knew that he was blushing with every inch of his body exposed. He jerked violently despite his will when Thomas' fingertip tentatively brushed over the rim of his entrance. Thomas retreated his hand for a moment and placed a kiss on the inside of his thigh.

"Relax." Thomas encouraged an murmured against Newt's skin.

"I am—" Newt said and trailed off as Thomas touched the most sensitive part of his body again. "—trying," he finished with a grunt.

The first finger was slid in with quite an ease when he let himself relax and nothing compared to what he had imagined. But the second was indeed unpleasant and met his resistance. Newt fell back down flatly onto the mattress.

"Are you alright?" Thomas asked and sat up a little straighter so he didn't break his gaze on Newt' expression.

"It feels weird, but not hurtful," he lied and nodded up at Thomas to reassure him again.

"Fuck, this is complicated. It seemed not this difficult in—" Thomas mumbled and slipped the third fingers in. "Oh fuck, I'm sorry," Thomas yelped in apologetical frustration when Newt couldn't help but groan out in pain.

Three fingers inside him was almost unbearable. Newt felt his eyes stinging and his breath ragged.

"Newt, we can stop in any moment." Thomas had almost pulled his fingers out. Newt reached down and grabbed at his wrist to hold his wrist back.

"Just keep going, you motherfucker," Newt practically growled even when he had to bite at his lips to stop himself from crying out when Thomas nodded with a concern grimace on his face as he pushed his fingers back in.

Newt was grateful that the pain was ease off even just a little bit when Thomas wrapped his free hand around Newt' length. Newt sighed at the contact. Thomas kept stroking him as rubbing his fingers inside Newt until they hit something that sent a wave of pleasure through Newt's body, goosebumps prickling under his skin. Newt instinctively thrusted up into Thomas' hand then pushed himself down onto his fingers. And suddenly it felt good.

So good to the extent that Newt fully felt the need of Thomas' inside him right now. He took hold of Thomas' head to pull him up. Thomas collapsed bonelessly on top of him this time, except his adamant erection which was pressed against Newt' flesh. He let out a groan before Newt swallowed it with his mouth.

"Tommy, I need to feel you inside me now," Newt breathed when he broke the kiss and whined when Thomas pulled his fingers out.

Thomas nodded and then hooked one arm beneath Newt's knee and lifted his lower part a little higher then with his other hand, he guided himself into Newt's entrance.

Newt hadn't realized he was crying when Thomas was fully inside him until he felt Thomas hand wiped away the tears on his cheek. The pain was so raw and sharp and sour that Newt couldn't force his eyes open. His hands clutched at the sheet so tightly he felt his knuckles hurt. 

Thomas had stilled himself to let Newt adjust the aching feeling, his breath ghosting on the side of Newt's neck.

"For fuck's sake," Newt shouted despite the pain in his arse. "Stop being nice and just do it, Tommy. I'm not that breakable."

"What?" Newt could hear Thomas pant heavily.

"Move." Newt wrapped his leg which was not being held by Thomas around Thomas' waist to urge him.

But the first thrust—even ever so shallow—pushed a cry out of his mouth. His head pressed onto the mattress as his body squirmed.

"You're so tight."

"Is it...?" Newt practically gasped for air, but he managed to push the words out. "Is it a good sign?"

"I—" Thomas seemed holding himself back, his body trembling above Newt. "I don't know. . . but it does feel good to me, but apparently bad for you."

"So that's good to me," Newt grunted and shifted his hips a little with a hope that it might be less hurtful. But it turned out quite the opposite. He grounded out in pain more than in bliss. "Argh—too."

"We have to stop," Thomas demanded. "It won't work."

Newt blinked his eyes open at that and saw things a little blurry. Maybe he was really crying so badly, because he could feel his tears soak his hair and the area of the mattress beneath his head now. Thomas had released the hold on his knee and both of his hands were now on Newt's hips, rubbing his skin soothingly in small circles.

"What? What's wrong?" Thomas asked then leaned down to kiss Newt's agonized frown between his eyebrows away.

"The last time you said it," Newt choked. "The memory still hurt me." He could feel that affliction even more blatant than the one at this moment.

"What did I say?" Thomas asked without any glint of annoyance at Newt recalling the bad memories, just a heart-trended anxiety on his expression.

" _'It won't work.'_ " Newt felt somehow devastated when the night they broke up rushed over his mind.

"I—" Thomas rested his forehead on Newt's, the tips of their noses touched. And there was a deep touch of regretting in his now dark eyes, but soon it became a soothing gaze. Newt thought it was the tenderest thing that had ever laid on him. "Newt, it's alright now. We will make it work."

With that Thomas managed to sit up and used his hold on Newt's hips to lift him off the mattress as well. And now Newt was sitting on top of Thomas. This position made Newt's body sink totally onto Thomas, and it knocked the air out of his lungs. But a minute or two later, Newt thought he could get used to the sensation when he was the one who controlled his own body now.

"You should set the pace," Thomas wound his arms around Newt's waist to hug him, pressing their chests hard against each other. Newt let a moan of pleasure escape his mouth as his length was rubbed between their stomaches.

Newt could feel Thomas' member twitching inside him, begging for any kind of friction as much as his own. But they remained still for a long moment. Thomas kept kissing Newt as to ease his pain, his lips wet and a little bruised at this point. There was a taste of lust and love on his tongue which was sliding with Newt's, and there was also care in the way his hands moving up and down on Newt's back, but still holding respect to him as he avoided to touch Newt's wings.

"I need your touch, Tommy," Newt mumbled between kisses.

"I am."

Newt broke the kiss so he could meet Thomas' eyes. "I need you to touch me—touch my wings."

Thomas drew a sharp gasp in pure shock, his hands stopped stroking Newt's back immediately.

Newt smiled before leaning in to catch Thomas' earlobe between his lips and nip at it. He could feel Thomas' heart race in his ribcage as his breath was stuck at his throat.

" _Thomas_ ," Newt said the real name of the one he loved the most the first time, tasting it in his mouth and in every bone and nerve of his body. " _Touch me._ "

Thomas released one arm from Newt's waist and reached out. The moment his skin touched the golden feathers, Newt's eyes drifted shut, and he shuddered. His wing was so smooth and soft that the sensation sent a shiver over Thomas' own body.

Newt began to roll his hips, eyes still shut but the pain had left his expression all at one. Thomas sighed at the friction where their bodies were connected. Newt clawed his blunt fingers at Thomas' shoulders so hard it could leave bruises—not that Thomas minded any marks by his beloved on his body—as he used them to keep balance.

"Harder," Newt whispered into his ear, his breath puffing and hot, before he leaned his head back to face Thomas. His eyelids were half-closed and his lower lip was caught between his teeth, fighting back any moan. Newt was still a controlling man, especially on his body. But this time was different from the first time Thomas had gotten him off, this time Newt looked into Thomas' eyes and let Thomas see him when he was in the most vulnerable and exposed condition. Thomas lifted his hand which had been holding Newt's hip up to curl his fingers through Newt sweat-damped hair and kissed him, pouring all his love into it to let Newt know how much this whole thing meant to him.

He ran his other hand over Newt's wing and grasped a bunch of feathers gently then stroked them. Newt's breath hitched and his speed was getting more frantic, he lifted his body lightly then sank down onto Thomas in earnest.

The coil in his lower stomach was getting ever so difficult to control, but Thomas reminded himself and tried not to thrust up too hard into that tight heat. Instead Thomas moved his mouth to bite Newt's jaw then his small chin, loving the way Newt hummed in appreciation. He rained open-mouthed kiss down Newt's neck, feeling the rapid pulse under his lips. Then, unconsciously he leaned over Newt's shoulder and trailed the tip of his tongue over the broken bone—the weakest yet most heroic part of his. Newt's wing had a taste of sun, bright and warm yet too fierce it felt like almost forbidden. It sent a liquid of burning pleasure down to Thomas' spine and spread through his body in a way Thomas felt himself bound by fire.

Newt jerked at the unexpected action and his orgasm came so sudden and impetuous like a tsunami crashed the land, his seed spouting between their bodies hot like blood. Thomas leaned back to marvel at the sight of it. Newt looked like a saint, and Thomas used every bit of his body to carve this spectacular into his dazed mind and his wild heart. A small gasp of ecstasy escaped Thomas' lips as Newt clenched his muscles around him. Newt pulled him into a messy kiss as they rode through climax together. The sensation was so vehement it almost felt brutal.

Perhaps the overwhelming sensation made him see illusion, because Thomas suddenly saw white spots swimming in his vision through his closed eyelids.

"For fuck's sake—" Thomas literally screamed as if he was threatened when he opened his eyes, but found himself stunned and mesmerized while looking over Newt's shoulders. "Your wings—"

Newt's wings were not white with golden patterns anymore, they were all golden and illuminating the brightest light that all the orange lights around the room combined were still not able to compare.

Thomas squinted his eyes and gasped—he even barely found his voice. "They are fucking glowing."

"The perk of seventeen," was Newt's way too simple explanation before he collapsed onto Thomas.

~~~~~~~~~

"You really should attend art college next year," said Thomas with an admiring tone as he held the sketch in front of him. Newt knelt beside him on the mattress, still naked, and bit his lips to stop himself from grinning too boardly.

"Come here." Thomas extended one arm and padded at one his wings that was spreading haphazardly on the mattress. Newt quickly scooted closer and lay down, head resting on Thomas' shoulder, and wondered if his weight could harm Thomas' wing. But hearing Thomas sigh in content, he knew it didn't. 

"See?" Thomas tapped lightly at the corner of the picture. "We're in the exact position like the picture, except for the nakedness." 

In the picture were Thomas and him, lounging next to each other on a leisure day, not after having sex or coming home from school, just a lazy morning after waking up together with Newt thinking about what they should eat for breakfast and his boyfriend rambling about what series they should marathon at night. 

Thomas laughed and wrapped his arm around Newt's shoulders and pressed him even closer until Newt's nose touched his neck. As if out of his control, Thomas suddenly shook Newt's shoulders violently and kissed his forehead with a cheesy smacking sound. "Oh my goodness, I love it, I love it so much I will make thousands copies of it and hung them around my rooms."

"Please don't, unless you want me to take it back," Newt whined weakly.

"Nope, you won't," protested Thomas and hastily closed the sketch before hiding it beneath the mattress.

Newt gave out a huff but let it go. Thomas wouldn't do it anyway. Or would he?

"Speaking of which, I don't know why people often say their first "I love you" after the first sex in scenes," Newt mumbled against Thomas' skin. The sky was getting dark, and they would leave this room sooner or later. Newt felt a bang of affection in his chest thinking about meeting Thomas' family.

"Wow, so you have watched sex scenes?" Thomas' chest rumbled under Newt's chin as he snorted out a laugh.

"They actually don't show those scenes explicitly on TV, you know?" Newt replied sheepishly, blushing at the thought of watching hot scenes even just half an hour ago they had been _'Inserting A into Slot B'_ —not that Newt clearly understood what that meant. He glanced up to find Thomas smirking at him, and hastily buries his face into the crook of his boyfriend's neck. "In one second, the characters are stripping off, in the next second they are spooning, that kinda things, you know?"

"Well, maybe only then that their brains totally shut down the rational part and just simply let the word flow out. But do you—?" Thomas trailed off.

"Do I what?" Newt asked him in jest but he knew what exactly Thomas was asking about.

There was a silence in which Newt kept idly tracing his point finger in circles around Thomas' belly button, but Thomas rubbing at Newt's feathers had stopped.

"Love me?" Thomas' ask was merely a whisper this time.

Newt sat up and climbed onto Thomas' body then straddled his hips. There was an ocean of self-doubt in Thomas' eyes. Newt got a hold of Thomas' hand and pressed it to his chest where his heart was hammering because of him.

"You're the best ever thing that has happened in my life," said Newt, resting his free hand onto Thomas' heart, loving the way it beat exponentially like his own. "You know it, don't you?"

"I do." The glint of uncertainty left Thomas' eyes now, replaced by genuine affection and infatuation.

"So yes, I do love you too, Tommy. I didn't know what love was before—before I met you. But now it feels like how many times I say those three words is still not enough to describe my feelings for you and to let you know how much you mean for me."

Thomas used his free hand to stroke through Newt's hair until he was holding his nape. Newt leaned down and halfway met Thomas' lips. The kiss was soft, a simple gesture of a promise. "I do know, Newt, because I feel the same."

~~~~~~~~~

_Epilogue_

"Newton," Mr. Jason re-entered the classroom and called Newt as the said boy was laboriously tapping on his calculator. Newt raised his head up to look at their new Math teacher. Thomas gave Newt a side glance, seeing a faint tint of red on his nose. It was one of the coldest day this winter.

"Yes, Mr. Jason?" Newt put his calculator down onto the table as he stood up.

"Your brother Gally is outside and wants to meet you." Mr. Jason nodded lightly then added. "You can go out, but be back soon."

Thomas turned to look directly at Newt this time and saw his hands curling into fists on the desk. He let his gaze up to see Newt's expression. Newt pursed his lips then glanced to meet Thomas' eyes before he gave a quick cursory nod at the math teacher and darted towards the door with his head ducked.

Thomas watched him go, his shoulder slightly hunched. When Newt came back into the class, he was covered by a new layer of clothing. Newt was wearing his seemingly favorite coat with the pale shade of green and a fur collar—Thomas had seen him in that coat more than often the last winter when they'd just known each other. It looked like his most fashionable piece of clothing, and Thomas mentally declared that Newt indeed had a potential to be a model if he could let himself get something more special than his always casual outfits. Not that Thomas minded Newt's style though, he just plainly loved whatever Newt put on himself, much more when the blonde put on nothing. Thomas was trying to fight back his chuckle at the thought.

"I missed this coat of yours," Thomas whispered as Newt sat back onto the chair next to him.

Newt said nothing but hum quietly, which Thomas wasn't sure what to make of, and continued the formula he hadn't finished. When the bell rang and Mr. Jason said his goodbye to the class, Newt mumbled out of a sudden "Me too," that Thomas had wondered for a brief moment before he realized what Newt was saying.

"It looks warm," commented Thomas and gave Newt a thumb up with a smile tugging on one corner of his lips.

"It is." Newt's voice muffled through the wool fabric of the blue scarf Thomas had given him on Christmas Eve—the new one, not the long-time-no-washed one. "My mother bought me this coat when she was back from her business last year. She looked quite gratified when she saw me wear it fitly. I remembered when I marveled at the warmth and softness of the coat, it was one of the few times I saw something other than the color of gray in her eyes. Perhaps she was not just pleased, she was happy."

He and Newt had halted on the hall on their way to the LBGTQ club. Thomas was staring at Newt, wondering why all of a sudden Newt decided to talk about his mother. Despite all of Thomas' effort, Newt had built for himself barriers to keep his anguish about his parents deep inside and never let it burst out. His eyelids were low in sad nostalgia but there was a small and discrete smile touching his rosy lips. The happiness in Newt radiated off so strongly Thomas could feel it infecting him.

"Gally seems to know that you love this coat too." Thomas swung his arm around Newt's shoulders and pulled him close. They had learned how to ignore judgmental looks that some students threw at them. Luckily after Gally standing up for his brother that day on the field, his disciples and many other homophobic pricks had more or less stopped their bullshit. Gally had done one good thing before he graduated high school at least.

"I don't know," said Newt quietly. "But it was my mother."

"Hum?"

"She told Gally to bring it to me earlier." There was an edge of proud to his tone now. His eyes were half moon and watery when he glanced up at Thomas again. Thomas could tell Newt was feeling cozy, not just because of the thick coat he was cocooned in.

The smile Newt put on his angelic face was unconcealed and huge this time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter took so long because of the sex scene. I kinda wanted to put lots of emotions into it but at the same time wanted to make it steamy hot, so it was kinda a difficulty. In general, I'm not good at writing smut AT ALL. Lol. I hope other parts would make up for it.
> 
>  **BIG NOTE** (a little personal share on the writing process): Okay...idk if you find this note interesting but I can't help hahaha. Originally I intended on writing Newt tasting his freedom, but then I realized _"tasting"_ was still not enough for Newt. So when I wrote this last chapter, I decided to let Thomas taste Newt instead. As you can see, the name of this story is "The taste of freedom" so by describing Newt's taste through Thomas' POV, I wanna show that _"Newt has a taste of freedom—Newt is freedom himself."_
> 
> Again, thank you for reading this story! <3 I LOVE YOU ALL <3

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments will wing my writing speed... *whispering loudly*


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